Something Made For Fables
by GigiPuff
Summary: Sienna Baratheon comes home to war and hate. She finds a ill-suited King and secrets on every corner. Can a love blossom even in the darkest shadows? SansaxOFC
1. Chapter 1: Homecoming

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire nor many of it's characters, they all created by George R.R Martin. None of this actually took place in the book. This is merely a work of fanfiction.

* * *

In the old fairy tales we come across people who are good or bad. The good people are supposed to protect the innocent, defend the weak, and be honorable, noble and gentle. The bad people scheme, plot, abuse, and kill without a second thought. The good people fight for others; the bad people fight for themselves. Good people uncover truths; bad people lie to cover them. In the stories, you hear of gallant knights riding into battle and fighting for the King, and then returning home to their beautiful princesses. The villains are beheaded, cast into a fire or locked in a tall tower. In those tales, it is clear who is good and who is bad.

In our lives, there is no lucid line. Good people sometimes do bad things for a kindness, while the bad people sometimes do good things for someone they love. A king might send a man to assassinate an innocent girl because her birth threatens his crown or a noble solider might plot to overthrow the king's "son" when he takes the crown. A mother may kill to keep her secrets; a son may start a war to avenge his father. In this life, nobody is pure.

Nothing in the world is pure anymore.

Yet, love is pure. A love between lovers or families is unbreakable, untarnished and unconditional. Even in the tales, the knight and princess share a bond no war could break. No matter what evils the other has done, no matter how many scars or flaws they carry, the other half will always love them. They can be leagues apart and the love remains. A good person may love a bad person or vice versa. Friends or foes may become lovers; strangers can fall with a first sighting. Men can love men or women can love women.

This story, which I will now tell, is about a stag and a dove and the love they shared.

* * *

The city changed. She took a whiff of the air that smelled like shit and death; the commotion business vendors caused in the streets, and the music coming from the inn went through her ears. She glanced down at the dozens of beggars asking for coin or food; she tossed an old man some coin and broke a loaf of bread for two children. She stopped her horse to listen as a skinny old man preached about the injustices of the crown; she watched the people nod with him and she gripped her reigns. The liveliness she left King's Landing with fell away, leaving only despair and desperation. People flooded the streets more than before; she saw men pouring in and out of taverns and brothels. Children covered in filth ran up and down the streets while old men passed slowly by with their wooden walking sticks. The war changed everything she remembered. The war not only killed soldiers outside the walls, but also the people within them.

Majesty's hooves clopped on the cobbled streets of King's Landing, her brown leather saddle contrasting with the smooth grey and black fur and long mane. The luggage sitting in the small cart was caged inside, occasionally bouncing at the large stones underneath. People moved out of her way as she passed, not wanting to be trampled by a large stallion. Her rider guided her the leather reigns, still watching.

The hooded rider traveled along The Hook without being glanced at twice. The common folk seemed too busy to care who rode towards the Red Keep. The rider's mud stained boots sat in the stirrups, her gloves held onto tightly to the reigns, and the long black cloak covered her face and the clothes she wore. She had half a mind to remove the cloak for an escape from the heat, but she had been advised to keep it on. The crowds were at odds with the kingdom…a fight she blames her brother for.

Sometimes, Sienna wished she had stayed in the Free Cities. Things were much simpler there. Here in Westeros, everybody fought over a stupid chair. Five kings. Two claim to be the true heir to The Iron Throne, one wants to steal his brother's birthright, and two fight for control of the northern lands. Her mother called it war; Sienna called it a farce. She never understood why any would want to be king. You never had a moment's peace, you always had someone defying you, and everyone expected you to know everything. Sienna could never deal with that; her father always said so.

In a short while, Sienna reached her destination. Standing high around were the walls of the Red Keep, the seat of the Iron Throne. Its high thick walls ran all around the castle like a shield, the tops of the towers had slated roofs painted a fading red. From afar you could see the tops of the castle as well as the Tower of the Hand. A smile went across the girl's face as she approached the front gates into the castle. Two guards stood in the front, watching her as she rode up to them.

"And what would you want, rider?" One guard, a burly, bearded man in shining silver armor asked. She noted the crowned stag imprinted on both of the guards' breast plates.

"An audience with the Queen."

His other-a skinnier, clean-shaven man- snorted, "Yes, my cock would definitely like an audience with the Queen, but sadly, she wouldn't have time for the likes of someone like you."

"Oh, I think she would."

Sienna removed her hood to reveal the mass of pitch black hair underneath. Blue almond shaped eyes tinted in green stared down at the two men with a playfulness only certain people carried. She wore a dirty tunic over a crimson shirt, with black breeches and a sword belt carrying a short sword and a dirk. Both guards gaped and bent on their knees.

"Forgive us, my lady," The burly one said.

"We did not recognize you," The skinny one added.

She chuckled, "No need to kneel, men. Open the gate." She heard shouts and cheers coming from somewhere inside the castle. "Is there a celebration today?"

The gates began opening. "Yes, my lady. It is The King's name day."

"Ah yes." No doubt Joffery wanted the most lavish of celebrations for his name day. She kicked the stirrups gently and Majesty trotted inside.

The only people there waiting for her were a few of the kingsguard and a handful of servants. They all greeted her with head bows mutters of: "Welcome home, my lady." A servant unhooked the cart from Majesty; stablehands guided the horse away from the courtyard, and others began carrying her belongings inside. She took off her gloves and unclasped her cloak. A handmaiden took the items and followed the others. All Sienna did was look up at her home. She already saw her large featherbed, a nice hot meal from the kitchens with a large jug of ale in her bedchambers; not to mention a steaming bath.

Trudging up the steps, she entered the castle. Absolutely nothing changed here. The place had all the makings of any normal castle: Beautiful gardens, high windows, long or wide staircases, doors hiding the secrets of its inhabitants. She passed the occasional servant girl or boy who bowed down to her. Sienna nodded out of courtesy. At the moment, she did not consider herself a princess. Princess wore dresses and tiaras. She'd-most likely-wear those later.

In Maegor's Holdfast, a small castle like structure within the Red Keep, she found groups of people gathered around. She caught several familiar faces in the crowds, mostly from court. The ladies wore their fashionable silks, laces, frills and jewels, and their hair decorated with pins or nets. The gentlemen wore stylish doublets, breeches and tunics or polished armor glinting in the sunlight. Everyone wore the highest of fashions; showing off how much gold they had in their pockets. Sienna felt a little underdressed. Though, the house banners of the black stag hanging on the walls, the servants walking around with large plates of food, and pitchers of fine wine screamed out expensive cost.

In the center two knights clashed swords; a silver knight and a blue-cloaked knight. Everyone applauded either for one or the other. She watched as the silver knight swung his sword underneath his opponent's knees, which then blocked the blow. Instead of using his shield, the silver knight lifted the hilt of his sword. The blue-cloaked knight caught hold and twisted him around. She saw the two dance around the courtyard. The silver knight used everything but his shield.

"Use your bloody shield you fool! Hit him back with it and _then_ charge forward!" Sienna called out. "Stop hitting him with your fist and elbows! There's a reason you got a sword in your hand!"

"Sissy?"

Her family sat underneath the shade of a red velvet canopy. King Joffrey, a boy of seven-and-ten with curly blonde hair and green eyes, watched intently from above in his chair. Her younger sister, Myrcella, sat beside her younger brother, Tommen. Myrcella wore a pale pink dress tied around her waist; her golden locks trailing down her back in a braid. Tommen sported a scarlet doublet with gold fastenings and black breeches, his sandy hair cropped short for the occasion.

Both Myrcella and Tommen rose up from their seats when they saw Sienna approaching.

"Sissy!"

"Sissy!"

The two of them hugged her tightly. She smiled at the sight of her younger siblings. Hugging them close, she felt at home again. She smothered them with kisses on their faces. "Oh look at you two!" She exclaimed. She glimpsed at Myrcella, "You've grown so much since I last saw you. You're looking more and more like Mother every day! And Tom," She turned to him, "Show us your muscle."

He flexed his bicep proudly. "Haha, you're going to a real warrior someday. Isn't that right, little brother?"

Joffrey did not glare or scowl as his sister came forward. All he said was: "You're late. Mother said you would be here a month ago. She's not going to like that."

"Oh, I took a small detour from Maidenpool to Acorn Hall. Westeros is truly a lovely place, you know, once you remove all the war and carnage." She came closer to them. She poured herself a glass of wine and took a sip. "When you're done playing King, perhaps you can come along with me."

"I'd never lower myself the way you have," Joffery said. "Look at you: A crown princess dressed like a peasant. You almost look like a sellsword the way you're standing."

"I think I'd make a great sellsword honestly," She shrugged.

"Did you meet any outlaws on your journey?" Tommen asked as she escorted them to their seats. "Did you fight off wolves and bears and things? Did you fight any soldiers or outlaws?"

She smirked, "I have a tale or two to tell. I'll tell you both tonight during supper."

Her eyes then fell on the girl sitting beside Joffrey. She resembled a porcelain doll with her long auburn hair fitting in the simple southern style on top of her head, ivory skin gentle to the touch and perfect posture. The lilac silk dress she wore fit her slender figure rightfully, giving her the same narrow shape of all noble ladies. Something about her radiated outward like a fabled angel Sienna remembered hearing about once. She felt so drawn to this girl without even knowing her.

"I assume this is your betrothed, Joff?" She asked him, getting closer to her.

"This is Lady Sansa Stark," He answered.

"Pleasure to meet you, Lady Sansa," She said, finally nodding her head.

"And you, Princess Sienna."

"Please," She said politely, "You're going to be my sister-in-law soon, call me Sienna."

"Alright...Sienna."

The way she said her name nearly made Sienna swoon. She finally made the connection.

"My condolences about your father, my lady," Sienna nodded her head. "It saddens me I never had the pleasure of knowing him."

"Her father was a traitor-" Joffery began,

"But her father nevertheless. Seeing as our father died not too long ago, I'd think you'd at least be a little more sympathetic." Sienna looked back at Sansa, "Please excuse my brother. He sometimes forgets himself."

Joffery only scowled.

"His Grace is right," Sansa replied solemnly, "My father…My father was a traitor."

"And I assume you can't wait to marry?"

"I'm counting the days."

If Sansa was going to live there, she needed more lessons in lying. "Well, I would love to stay with the both of you, but I have business with our mother."

"She's with the small council," Joffrey said, but she ignored him.

"Good day, Lady Sansa."

She began walking down the corridor towards the small council chambers. Sienna came across many women in her journeys across Westeros and Essos: Innkeepers, noble women, whores, slaves, all kinds. They were all the same: working women who've never known anything better. Innkeepers and slaves served her food and ale, while whores warmed up her bed at night (unbeknownst to her mother). None of them sparked that feeling in her stomach. They did not keep her guessing. They kept no mystery from her or even tried. Sansa, however, sparked curiosity.

Perhaps because of her unfamiliarity. Sienna left home months ago after the death of Jon Arryn, her father's Hand before Ned Stark arrived. She'd already have trouble adjusting to her father no longer sitting on the throne, her younger brother being King, her uncle the King's Hand and her people starving or dying. Having this new presence walking around made her uneasy. Ned Stark-she heard-had been a traitor; betrayal runs in family bloodlines. This girl may be the most beautiful in the world, but that did not mean she wasn't dangerous.

No doubt her mother expected a friendship between them. Considering the war, her mother will confine her to the Red Keep. No more travels north, south, east or west. No more sleeping in crossroad inns, riding through the wilderness come rain or shine, hunting for meals in between inns, or sailing across The Narrow Sea. Westeros was unsafe. Instead, Sienna shall spend her days in the company of Sansa Stark. It surprised her Sansa still lived. Sienna thought her mother might have killed the girl after her father. They were truly taking a risk keeping her. She'd have to be careful of her. Traitors and liars lurk all over Westeros now. Even the quiet ones are treacherous.


	2. Chapter 2: Losing the War

The small council met in their chamber as usual. Sienna spotted a few familiar faces and noticed a few missing ones. The Master of Coin, Lord Baelish, a small but handsome man with a pointed beard and dressed his usual neck-high tunic clasped closed by golden buttons and a mockingbird pin; his usual breeches pressed and clean as customary for any highborn man. The Master of Whisperers, Lord Varys, a bald eunuch wearing orange and red robes that did nothing to hide his rotund belly and slippers that silenced his footsteps. Grand Maester Pycelle sat hunched like most elderly men with his grey robes tied around his waist and his chains hanging from his neck. She also noted Janos Slynt acting as Lord Commander of the City Watch, the white cloak draped over his shoulders with gleaming chain mail and armor. Whoever gave him that position must have been out of their mind; anyone in King's Landing will tell you how corrupt he was, and about the horrible things he did.

The only three missing in this council were her father's brothers and Eddard Stark. Uncle Stannis, once the Master of Ships, now lived somewhere in Dragonstone where he rose up his own army against the crown; Uncle Renly, the former Master of Law, staying somewhere near Highgarden with his new bride and keeping his army close by. They both were too busy fighting for the Iron Throne, they did not spare any time for counsel.

And Ned Stark's head was on a spike-thanks to her brother-so they needed a new Hand of the King.

The one who lifted her head first was her mother. Cersei Lannister hardly changed. Her waist-length curls fell down her back; turquoise and salmon layers made up her gown, embroidered borders on the sleeves and shoulders and a thick gold belt around her waist. The disapproving face she gave Sienna mingled against the fury in them the minute she saw her.

"Hello Mother," Sienna said, carefully walking into the chamber. "Lord Baelish, Varys, Maester Pycelle, Lord Commander…I'm home…"

"And how lovely it is to see you, my lady," Lord Varys nodded

"Indeed," Lord Baelish, "We feared you might never return."

"Yes," Her mother said, "Where were you? You said you'd be arriving home a month ago. Why didn't you tell me you were taking your little side-trip? Do you know how worried I have been about you? I told your father this travelling expedition of yours was ridiculous from the start! Especially with the war with the Starks, and Stannis, and Renly! You could have been captured, or even worse, killed and I wouldn't have known!"

"In my defense," Sienna said, "In the event I were captured and or killed, I'm sure whoever did it will make it very widely known. So, in the end, you wouldn't have been out of the loop-"

"-Where did you go?"

"Maidenpool and Acorn Hall."

"Why on earth would you go there? That was northern territory you walked into!"

"I will agree with your mother, my lady," Lord Baelish said, "Going anywhere near the north is highly unwise. Did you have a guard with you at least?"

"I did not need one. Nobody even knew I was there."

"How is that even-"

"-Allow me, Your Grace," said Lord Varys, "My little whisperers have told me she's been staying in inns under the name 'Lia Waters'. Our little princess does have a way with tricking people."

"People didn't even recognize me," Sienna said. "Nobody in the Free Cities cares about what is happening over here. Nobody has ever seen you, me, Joff, Cella, Tomm…any of us. Yes, they have heard, but never seen me. Plus, who is going to question me when my story was so convincing?"

"Story?"

"Her mother used to be a slave in Pentos before getting on a ship going into King's Landing to work in the brothels," Varys answered. "There she met her father, a high lord visiting from Highgarden-whose name she does not known since he died ahead of her birth-the two of them got in bed together and created little Lia."

"My mother raised me up in a brothel until I was one-and-ten," Sienna continued, "But then she died when a sickness took her. The man who owned the brothel planned on keeping me, but I ran away. I found a man who took me as far as Oldtown, where I begged in the streets. I eventually moved around to places like Lannisport, Storm's End, Pyke, Seagard, Saltpans, Maidenpool, everywhere. When I turned one-and-four, I left Westeros and sailed into Essos. There I sold myself in the brothels until I made money for a small fish business, you know, selling mussels, clams, and things I could buy from the local fishermen. When they asked about my weapons, I told them a woman has to know how to protect herself in a world like this. "

"You can see, Your Grace, how well thought out your daughter is," Varys said.

"Yet your little birds knew every detail." The two smirked at one another.

Her mother stared at her for a few moments, and then said: "You're not leaving anymore. You will stay here in King's Landing where you are safe. You are the crowned princess of the Seven Kingdoms. Our enemies would do anything to have you for a prisoner."

"They would have to catch me first."

"It's a little difficult to hide for an entire army." Her mother pointed out.

"Unless you know what towns or cities to go to. I mean, none of our enemies are in the Free Cities or down in Dorne. Maidenpool is just a small place, so I doubt anyone important would be there. Also, Acorn Hall is really just for travelers or high borns on the move." She sighed. She took a seat by her mother, "Word has it Ned Stark's beheading caused this war, sending his son on a vengeful campaign to claim independence from the crown; he's defeated grandfather in every battle; he captured Uncle Jamie; Stannis is praising this new god, Lord of something or other; Renly sits by playing at war, and we're sitting here having tourneys and celebrations…"

"You make it sound like it's so easy to end this war," Her mother said.

"It could be, just give the Stark boy what he wants and he'll go away."

"And Stannis? Renly? Do you suppose we should just give them the throne instead?" Lord Baelish said. "Last time I saw, we can't simply cut the throne into equal pieces."

"No, but sometimes I wish we'd just melt it down and make it into some kind of statue instead."

"This isn't a joke, Sienna," said her mother. "We cannot simply give everyone what they want. Things do not work that way. Stannis is never going to be satisfied with Joffrey sitting on the throne. He and Renly will march at us if we don't-"

"You want to know what I came along in my travels," Sienna said, "I was sitting in an inn outside of Maidenpool, and I overheard some men talking about how Stannis and Renly are practically at each other's throats. They both have armies on land, but Stannis has his ships. He could easily take out Renly on the waters, but Renly has more bannermen than Stannis, so he has the advantage of numbers."

"And?" Her mother quirked an eyebrow.

"And, why should we worry about Stannis or Renly when they're so aimed on each other? This is all like one big pit fight. Two fighters are usually put into the pit together and then whoever the victors are will challenge each other. That's how this is: We fight Robb Stark, and Renly fights with Stannis. Whoever wins will end up fighting us. So, for right now we can just leave them to it. I don't see why we should bother with them. If they aren't willing to work together, then they don't pose much of a threat. When one has managed to kill the other, then we can worry about it. Let us focus on the Stark boy:

"He refuses to join either of them for reasons unbeknownst to us. Why? He could gain a lot siding with one of them. Whoever becomes king will give him his precious north."

"Probably out of honor or duty or something," Janos said, "The Starks have honor and pride shoved so far us their arses they can't shit it out."

Sienna chuckled, but her mother said: "Your grandfather is taking care of Robb Stark."

"And doing a _wonderful_ job of it too." Sienna rolled her eyes, "I only ask we stop this war soon. We're losing it and it's killing people right outside our doorstep. My people are hungry, Mother. They're begging in the streets because they can't even afford food for themselves, much less their children. You're here planning feasts while there are people out there dying with empty stomachs. I can already smell a revolution happening. Sooner or later they'll storm in here demanding food and Joff's head. We must get rid of one of these kings and fast."

"Our people aren't smart enough for that. They're too busy being hungry-"

"Never underestimate desperate people, Mother. It might get us all killed."

Suddenly, whistling echoed from down the hallway. Sienna smiled as her Uncle Tyrion waddled into the room. No higher than a normal man's waist, hair the same color of her mother's covering his protruding brow, his scrunched up face and mismatched eyes looking at them all. He donned red and black armor, the Lannister lion printed on the breast plate. Normally she saw him in fine doublets, breeches and boots with a wineskin in his hand.

"Uncle Tyrion," She beamed, "I'm glad to see you alive. I had heard you died in battle."

"Rumors can be vicious, my dear niece," He pecked her cheek. "But alas, I am still here."

"What are you doing here?" Sienna heard the irritation build up in her mother's voice.

"Good to see you as well, big sister. You look more ravishing than ever; war agrees with you," He smirked, going over to the end of the table. "Forgive the interruption, carry on."

Sienna watched him pour himself a glass of wine when he sat down on the chair. She stopped talking and listened now. Her mother questioned him again about why he was there. He began explaining all the things he went through in his journey.

"What are you doing here? This is the small council," Sienna knew her mother was truly agitated now.

"Well, I do believe the Hand of the King is allowed at all small council meetings."

"Our father is Hand of the King."

"Yes, but in his absence," He reached down into his pocket and pulled out a scroll of parchment and handed it to Lord Varys.

The eunuch unrolled the letter and read it quietly. "Your father has named Lord Tyrion to serve as Hand of the King in his stead, while he fights-"

"-Out all of you!" Her mother stood up abruptly from her seat, "Out!"

Everyone immediately exited, but Sienna stayed. This news struck her interest. Also, nothing was more enjoyable than watching her uncle and mother go at each other. She moved for the wine, but her mother's voice startled her.

"You too Sienna," She said. "Go clean up and eat something. You will change out of those filthy clothes you have on and dress like the princess you were crowned as at birth. Understand?"

"Yes, Mother."

Tyrion spoke as she rose from her seat, "Sienna, I shall have words with you later. There is something I wish to discuss."

"Yes, Uncle."

Sienna left the room, but even her trick of standing by the archway did not fool her mother. "I mean it, Sienna!"

She grumbled as she strolled down the hall. The idea of a bath and a hot meal came back to her, and she realized how hungry she was. They could not say she was wrong. If they bothered moving beyond the gates they would see for themselves. Joffrey could care less about the common folk; her mother allows him to keep acting like a little boy instead of a king. The small council really has no power. Everything became chaos when this war started. They all entered into a game only one person can win. So far, Stark seems like the most likely winner, whereas everyone else is lost. Hopefully her uncle will set things right. Uncle Tyrion always knew what to do inside a rock and a hard place.

Sienna found all her belongings unpacked and stowed away in their rightful places. A handmaiden stood by a large tub, pouring steaming hot water inside while another placed trays of food on her table: Bread, cheese, fruits, slices of roasted boar with potatoes, and-her favorite-lemon cakes. She dismissed both girls; she began undressing at once.

As she slipped underneath the hot water, she continued pondering. She thought about Joffrey and his annoying habit of ruining things. Then her mother and her doing nothing when Joffery lopped off Ned Stark's head. Then her grandfather losing all those battles to a child; her Uncle Jamie sitting alone chained in a small cell somewhere far away; her dead father; her recent journey and wishing she never returned home…and Lady Sansa. No matter how difficult, those innocent blue eyes, that soft red hair, that flawless skin all haunted her. Why? Perhaps because Sansa looked more of a princess than she did. Sansa should be titled 'princess'. She fit it better.

Or could it be because her brother-clearly-was mistreating the most beautiful girl in the entire world?


	3. Chapter 3: Peaceful Peaches

Lace and silk. Always lace and silk. The golden silk layered over the black lace cuffs and second skirt layer trailing behind her as she walked down the hall. Her mother requested a gold tiara in her hair and black beaded strands for her neck. She smelled like lavenders, and her make-up felt smooth across her face. Sienna never liked dressing her part, but she supposed the outfit was not so bad. Things could always be worse.

Thinking about the small council meeting, Sienna wished she had never left Essos. Perhaps taken a trip to the Summer Isles or stayed in Lys a little longer. The war hadn't touched down over in Essos. Everyone went about their own business there. Things seemed so much better anywhere other than Westeros. She expected peace when she returned. Instead she met a murmurs show.

'_Peace is like peaches. When you eat them, they are soft and sweet. You never want them to go away…until they fall out of season…then chaos returns and there are no more peaches. My peaches have all been eaten. I have no peaches now.'_

"Oh!" Sienna bumped into someone suddenly. A brush of soft silk and a blow of vanilla reached her nose for a moment.

"Forgive me, my lady."

Sansa stood in front of her, bowing with her head. Sienna stood upright. "No worries. No harm was done."

Sansa straightened up. Observing closely, the lighting of the hall radiated her beauty. The sun shining directly on her made the blue in her eyes brighter, the red in her hair apparent. Her ivory skin resembled porcelain. Sansa looked more like a princess than Sienna. She changed into a peach and orange layered silk dress with tulle ruffles along the cuffs and neckline; she noted the pink flowers embroidered along with blue jays on branches. She had all the loveliness and grace Sienna never possessed. Seeing her, she understood why Joffery kept her. No king wants an ugly queen.

"You must excuse me, Lady Stark. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I have a lot on my mind, you see and-""

"-Joffery told me you always do that," She answered, but then said, "Forgive me. I did not mean to interrupt."

She smiled, "No please, continue my lady. What else has my dear brother said about me?"

The two of them began walking together. "He says you're practically a man. You don't act like a princess…and…and there should be someone to teach you how to be one. He says if your mother doesn't marry you soon, you'll end up bedding women instead."

Sienna laughed to herself. "I suppose all of that is true. Joff always knew how to read people _so_ well…idiot." She shook her head, "I pity you, Lady Stark. You're the one that suffers his cruelty the most. Even though, between you and I, I don't think Joffery will be here much longer."

"I love Joffery. I cannot wait to-"

"-Spare me your lies," Sienna said. "Nobody in their right mind would love someone like Joffery." She saw Sansa lower her head, and felt a pang of guilt. "I understand you're only playing the part they want you to play; you say what you think everyone wants to hear, because if you told everyone how you truly felt about Joffery, who knows what they would do? But, have no fear telling me the truth. I dislike Joffery as much as the next person."

"But, he is your brother."

"Unfortunately, yes," She said. "I liked him much better when he was smaller. Of course, he was still an evil little shit then, but my mother and I controlled her. Mother or Father simple scolded him, and I whacked him around with a wooden sword. Now though," She sighed. "He has it in his head that since he is King, he can do as he pleases, which is true to some extent, but he has responsibilities. He must behave a certain way. Have you ever been outside these walls, Lady Stark?"

"No, my lady."

"Well, a lot of people in King's Landing hate Joffery. They are starving and dying in the streets all because of this war. They blame the crown. They would do anything to see Joffery's head roll."

"Can't we just give them food? We should have enough."

"I wish we could. Mother says a majority of our stores is for winter. We cannot simply go into the streets and hand people food."

"Would you if you could?"

"Yes, I would. These are my people just as much as they are Joffery's. Had I been king, this war wouldn't be going on, your father would still be alive and your little sister would never have run away." She refrained from saying '_and you would be my queen, and smile for me all the time.' _"I sometimes wish we had adopted the Dornish way of succession."

"And how is that, my lady?"

"Instead of the eldest boy taking the crown, it's literally whoever is next. For instance, when my father died, I would have been ruler of the realm because I am the eldest child. Sadly, that cannot be had. Joffery _and_ Tommen would die, and even then my uncle Stannis will take it…though, he's trying to do that a tad early if you ask me."

"I think you would make a great Queen," Sansa said.

Sienna stopped in their tracks. She stared at her for a moment. She tried finding a sense of humor or dishonesty in Sansa, but found none. Usually when someone talked about Sienna being Queen, they jested about it. A smile slowly crept across her face, "You really believe that?"

"Um…yes, I do." She answered. "I've heard about the things you have done for your people, like trying to feed the hungry or have maesters tend the sickly. A lady at court told me once you traded half your wardrobe for a hundred loaves of bread for city orphans."

"When times were better and not everyone was hungry," Sienna added. "I didn't think people actually cared about what I did."

"I do. I've never heard of a king who cared about his people. I think it's the women who are the kinder ones. Joffery only cares about himself. The Queen does not care much either. She lets him do whatever he wants and nobody does anything about it. But please, don't tell-"

"-Don't worry," Sienna grinned, "I won't tell anyone you actually spoke your mind."

Then Sansa smiled. The world lit up at the curve of those pink lips. Sienna tried pushing the wonder of how they tasted from her mind. Women never kissed here in Westeros, unless they were paid whores. Sienna only divulged her appetite in Essos or places far away from King's Landing. Sansa remained off limits.

As custom in Westeros celebrations were blessed…with seven courses, seven singers, and a large act at the end. Name-days were no different, with the exception of gift presentations for the royal family. Sienna arrived in the Great Hall alongside Sansa. The hall changed from when she last saw it. After his defeat of The Mad King, her father took down all the dragon skulls and replaced them with all his hunting decorations. Now, Sienna saw the large heads hanging again. Pure white, the size of a small house, their empty eye sockets stared down at the hundreds of people sitting on the benches around. The sun began going down, so she spotted servants lighting the torches upon the walls.

People bowed down in her presence. She saw Sansa smiling once again. "I assume people don't normally bow in your presence?"

"Not always. I'm not royalty; only Joffery's betrothed."

"Well, personally I think they should get into the habit. You'll be their queen someday."

They both beamed at each other. Once they reached the high table, she saw her family already seated: Her mother beside Joffery who sat upon the throne; Myrcella and Tommen sat beside each other on her mother's right. Two empty seats spaced Joffery away from Tyrion. Sansa took the seat beside Joffery; Sienna next to Tyrion, whom she grinned at.

"The Free Cities treat you well, Sienna?" He asked, as the rest of the nobles filled the room. "Find anything interesting in-what your mother says-is a pointless journey?"

"No journey is pointless," She replied. "You learn a lot of things when you are out there in the free world. Such as, I learned how to make a net, how to differ bad lemons from good ones make an herb spiced fish and that the best pleasure houses are in Lys. Literally, anything you crave is down there, not to mention I found a merchant who sells exceptionally good pipeweed."

"Oh my word! Princess Sienna!" Tyrion said in mock surprise, "Going into pleasure houses to indulge in all kinds of sexual perversions, drinking wine and smoking pipeweed! What would your lady mother say?"

"That I live quite a good life…I hope," They both laughed together. A servant poured them both Arbor wines, which Sienna sipped right away. "You must come with me sometime. I could use the company."

"I would if I could," He said. "Sadly, there's too much to do here, with this mess your brother put us in. This place needs to go through some changes before the war can be over."

She leaned in, "I fear the people will kill us all before Stannis or Renly even step foot in King's Landing. I've heard stories from all over, especially down in Flea Bottom. The people are angry. They talk about lopping off Joff's head or whipping my mother through the streets. I dread a revolt. We need to do something quickly."

"I totally agree, but for now, please try to enjoy yourself."

"The last time someone enjoyed themselves around here, he was killed by a pig."

"It was a wild boar."

"Same thing."

"Has anyone ever told you you worry too much?" Tyrion asked over his cup.

"Since I was a girl. Why do you think I leave so often? When I'm in Essos or somewhere else in Westeros, I have no worries."

"Well today, my dear, try not worrying. I do it all the time, and look how it's treated me."

The rest of that was left unsaid. People said it all the time: Sienna might as well be Tryion's child rather than Cersei's.

"Did you really do all those things in Lys?" Sansa's soft-spoken voice reached her ears.

Sienna had half a mind to lie. "Yes, I did. I know none of it is 'lady-like' but down in Lys, I'm no lady. Only a bastard girl who was brought up by a whore and has no idea who fathered her. It's easier to get away with it."

"Oh…"

"It is not as bad as it sounds, Sansa. Life has become extremely short around here. I don't think what I do really matters anymore." She gulped some of her wine.

"I don't think anyone would try and kill you. You're too…too…"

"Nice?"

"Strong," Sansa said.

"I wouldn't say strong. I'd say I'm more-"

"-Let us start the celebration in honor of my name-day!" Joffery's voice cut in towards the crowd. Sienna sighed, drinking more wine. "Let the feasting begin!"

Servants served the first course: Blandissory, a mixture of beef broth and boiled wine sweetened with honey and sprinkled with almonds and capon chunks. Sienna was not too fond of it, but took a few spoonfuls of it regardless. The singer, a woman named Bethany Fair-Fingers began playing her harp and singing. People seemed quite pleased with her; mostly because she was the only woman in the group of singers. Sienna thought her voice a little high pitched, and cared not for the ballad she sang.

"I hate name-day celebrations…" She said, pushing away her bowl. When she sensed Sansa's bemusement, she continued, "They can drag on for hours, and take up time we could be using for planning and restoration of this kingdom."

Sansa giggled the sound nearly contagious. "May I get in on the jest?" Sienna asked, smirking herself.

"Lord Tyrion is right: You do worry too much."

"I can't help it. It's in my nature, I suppose. You can't tell me none of this bothers you?"

"It does, but…but my mother used to tell me we have to make the best of things if we want happiness."

"Wise woman." She turned to Tyrion, "Didn't Catelyn Stark kidnap you? Said you nearly killed her son or something of that sort?"

"Oh yes, I ended up in a sky cell in the Eyrie," He said.

"Really? What was it like?"

"Terrifying."

"I would have come to your rescue had I known where you really were."

"I know."

The second course arrived as the audience applauded Bethany's soothing song. She looked down at the swan poached with saffron and peach sauce served with a side of buttered peas and chopped nuts. Sienna only ate half her sliver of swan, most of the peas and a spoon of the nuts. She watched Sansa eat so daintily, it made Sienna look like an animal. Sansa glanced her way and she quickly stared up at Alaric, the second singer of the feast.

After the other courses of, sizzling blood sausage, roasted peacock stuffed with dates, a honey-ginger partridge, and a few roasted herons and a cheese-onion pie (which Sienna sniffed, and then pushed aside), she found herself full. Finally the dessert trays came around. Small cherry, apple and blueberry tarts passed down the tables, followed by bowls of peaches drizzled with cream, and lemon, strawberry and raspberry cakes, the ceremony of gifts started.

A man from Casterly Rock (representing her grandfather, Lord Tywin Lannister) presented Joffery with a Valyrian steel dagger with a golden hit topped with a red ruby; the rest of them received small lions that prowled when you pulled the strings. An envoy from Highgarden brought him a golden statue of a crowned stag bejewel with black diamonds, and also giving the women a collection of flower-adorned hair pins and the men gold chains. A Dornishman rolled in caskets of fine Arbor wines and a presentation of scandal-clad dancers, giving Sienna and Myrcella bejeweled tiaras, The Queen and Sansa silver dove statues, while Tommen received a short sword.

"Sienna," Cersei called her daughter, "I understand you brought something for your brother as well?"

"You did?" Joffery turned his head over.

"I did?" She stared at her mother, who nodded. "Oh yes! I-I did!" She stood up. Whatever this present was, she had no idea. "To honor our beloved King, Protector of the Realm, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and my little brother, Joffery Baratheon," She smiled at him, but he gazed suspiciously. "I present him with a gift from the…the…great free city of Pentos!" She gestured to the end of the hall.

In walked a pair of castle guards, holding both sides of a large trunk. They set it down at Joffery's feet. She stepped down from the table towards the trunk; she nodded at them and they popped it open. Out she pulled was a long cranequin crossbow. Whoever bought this obviously did not fully think it through: Cranequin crossbows were useless in battle. However, the weapon made Joffery's scowl disappear.

"The string can shoot any arrow a hundred or so yards," She said, examining the bow herself. "Ash wood and golden recurve…the crank," She began turning the crank until the drawstring pulled all the way back, "Works smoothly." She pulled the trigger and the string sprung back in place quickly and tightly, "No problems with launching. It has a good balance on it, nothing Joffery could not handle."

"And this is mine?" Joffery asked, sitting up straight. "Mine to play with?"

"Indeed." She handed the crossbow to a guard, who then handed it to Joffery.

Joffery distracted he never noticed the boxes coming up in front of his sister. Four black and silver boxes came before her. She assumed the rest of the presents. Sienna thought up on the spot:

A toy chest filled with little wooden army figures: Foot soldiers, battle ships, horse soldiers, and everything else for Tommen. "All the boys in Myr play with them. You can have battles in the middle of your bedroom."

Porcelain dolls in a frilly dresses with fine thread hair for Myrcella; apparently hailed all the way from Braavos: "She looks just like you."

Her mother received a necklace of sapphires isolated in pear-shaped sets of white diamonds: "I found a jeweler in Pentos who said he'd be glad to make it…for the amount I offered him." The Queen seemed all too pleased. _'You would be. You bought it.'_

"And for Lady Stark," Sienna took the last velvet box. Sansa gasped at the pink topaz and diamond fringe necklace sitting on the black velvet, "The jeweler said topaz is a healing gem while diamonds are for power or protection. I thought it might look lovely on you."

"Thank you, my lady."

For a brief moment, skin touched skin. Sienna felt her whole body flush underneath Sansa's stare. She bowed for her brother and family, and then took her seat at the table. Her cheeks felt hot. She watched a handmaiden clasp the necklace around Sansa. The item matched her beautifully. Sienna downed the rest of her wine, her head swimming. She observed the dress again. The peach shade gave her an elegant look while the orange brought in some color. Seeing her there, Sansa seemed peaceful. The aura radiated off her, sinking Sienna in...

_'I do have a peach left and it's name is Sansa.'_


	4. Chapter 4: No Hero, No Knight

_Left. Right. Left. Undercut. Step to the right, spin and catch their back. If they block it, pull out and wait for the attack. Usual block forward. _

Sienna heard her Uncle Jamie's voice in her ear. She remembered all their nightly sessions in the torch-lit training yard. He would stand over her as she swiped her sword away at a dummy. He'd call out moves and command; he'd correct her mistakes for her. At the end, he'd fight her himself. Naturally, he bested her most nights, but Sienna won once or twice. Nobody will ever be a better swordsman than her uncle, yet she certainly tried.

'_You have speed, I will give you that, but you need variation. You always hit in the same spots. If you continue to hit in the same areas, your opponent will catch on and you'll lose. And trust me, my dear; you do not want to lose.'_

She nodded as if he had been speaking. She went in for a forward attack instead of a side swipe. Sienna kicked at the dummy's chest when it leaned forward on its spring, and sliced around the neck, leaving a small white mark.

"I see you went back to your breeches," A voice said from afar.

Tyrion emerged from the dimly lit archway. His stumped legs carried him all the way to the threshold of the yard. He no longer wore a suit of armor, but his usual fine, boiled leather and wool clothes. A red tunic, black breeches with boots specially made for him. His blonde hair went back to its clean, neat state and his mismatched eyes stared right up at her. She relaxed her sword arm, and stared at him. Sienna pulled off her dress the moment she entered her bedroom; she now stood in an open leather vest revealing a loose linen shirt; breeches covering her legs and tucked in her boots.

"I always wear this in the yard," She said. "It's harder to move around with a dress whirling all around you. All those pretty laces and frills can get in the way; only good if you want to distract your target."

"But what if somewhere were to catch you unawares in your pretty gown?"

"Then I better be ready," She smirked. She called forth a servant who handed her a wineskin she drank from, before handing it back. "What brings you all the way to The White Tower so late?"

"A private audience," He drank from his own wineskin, and then came closer. "With your mother always present, it's a bit difficult to catch you alone like this."

"She never did like me swinging around a sword."

"And she claims she wishes she were a man," He sighed. "Anyways, on to business, sit." The two of them sat on a bench nearby. "I need to talk to you about Joffery-oh quiet; you knew this was coming-"He said to her scoff, "Ever since his coronation, your little brother has been out of control. I heard he cut off a singer's tongue only because the man displeased him; Ser Dontos nearly drowned in wine because your brother had someone funnel it down his throat. If Sansa hadn't saved him, he'd be dead now."

"My brother's always been like that," She said. "There's nothing we can do about that now. I remember he used to smack around his whipping boy with the tip of his sword and shoot at birds on his window sill and make Myrcella hold them, and you know she has too much of a gentle heart. This whole king business has gone to his head."

"I know of Joffery's cruelty. I personally blame your mother for it. His arrogance comes from her. She's put in his head that he's the best and the greatest; that people will bow down to him when he becomes king; that he can have whatever he wants and nobody can say otherwise. He spent more time around her than he did your father."

Sienna could not say he was wrong. When they were younger, Joffery never strayed too far from their mother. Whenever the most remote bit of harm came to him, he cried and ran to her. Sienna wanted to strangle him. She should have.

"And he truly believes that," They took drinks from their wineskins. "What did you have in mind for my dear brother?"

"You know how much Joffery likes Sansa, don't you?"

She laughed, "Like Sansa? How can he like Sansa? He treats her horribly. I hear he calls to her like she's a dog. He has Meryn Trant slap her whenever she displeases him. I don't see him ever being fond of her."

"But he is. I've noticed something about your brother," He scooted closer, "He enjoys pain. No, now listen: He likes seeing others in pain. I can tell in his face. He never does the hurting himself, because he likes watching someone else do it. Seeing them crying and pleading for mercy gives him a sort of…a sort of…"

"Insanity?"

"Excitement, especially when it's a woman. It makes him feel like he has control over them. He likes telling people what to do. He delights in humiliating them, especially in large groups of people. I wouldn't be surprised if he hasn't raped Sansa after humiliating her in some way."

Sienna's grip tightened around her sword. The mere thought of her shit brother hurting Sansa stirred something in her stomach. However, she would never put it past Joffery to do something like that.

"Is there a reason you're here?" She asked. She didn't like hearing about her brother's injustices and sick pleasures.

"Sansa Stark," He said, "The poor girl who is your mother's prisoner until Robb Stark hands over Jamie. Of course, her excuse is that Sansa is Joffery's betrothed and must live here with us."

"And?"

"And I see how you look at her. At the feast you barely kept your eyes off her; when she'd notice, you'd look away. You know as well as I the girl pulls at your heart strings."

"Perhaps she does…"

"You can't fool me, Sissy," He said, "I remember when you were younger. You spent more time around boys and looking at girls. You get to pleasure houses outside of King's Landing because you know if anyone were to find out the princess enjoys a woman's taste more than a man's, we'd have a scandal on our hands. Right now, we can't afford a scandal.

"You're growing fond of Lady Stark. Her innocence and beauty astounds you. You like how she's interested in your travels and thinks highly of you because you feel others don't." He was reading her like a book. Sienna said nothing. "You like her pointing out all the good things you've done. Most focus on how you behave like a boy or how disinterested you are with what happens at home. You spent most of your day with her-"

"Because I enjoy her company," She said. "I never liked sitting around a sewing circle with the other girls. I never liked gossiping or playing the harp. The only songs I like singing are the ones about battles and women. Did you know I did a needlepoint today? Yes, I did our sigil on a yellow background. I talked about all the ladies at court. She told me about Winterfell. We talked about her family, her talents…everything. I never found someone so interesting before."She sighed, "Did you come here to point out the obvious?"

"No," He said, "I need you to protect Sansa. With all of Joffery's cruelty, your mother's incredible habit of treating her as if she were stupid, and being held captive while her brother battles your grandfather, something horrible is bound to happen to her. Whether she does it herself or Joffery does it for her, Sansa will never fully be safe here."

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because you love her."

"Love is a strong word, uncle."

"Fine then, _like_ her. You hate your brother as much as everyone else. You will never admit it but you have a golden heart. You don't like seeing others suffering. I mean, look at how much you fight for your people, for your city. Your mother could care less about the starving, but here you are fighting for them. You're their voice and you don't even know it. If you watch over Sansa, she'll have a much better chance of living around here. She claims to love Joffery and can't wait for her wedding day because it'll please people's ears. I'm not sure how long that charade will last before Joffery decides to put her head beside her father's."

"So you want me to watch her?"

"Be by her side. Believe it or not, Joffery's a little afraid of you."

"I wouldn't say afraid."

"He certainly doesn't respect you, of course, but he never tries testing you."

"I think it's all the smacks to the head when we were young," She replied.

"All I ask is you protect her. You're perfectly suited for it. You are like Jamie after all."

"How?"

"You're better with a sword in your hand than with anything else."

With that said her uncle slid off the bench and left her in her peace. She thought on his words as she resumed training. Nobody could explain Joffery's behavior. His new title only gave permission to worsen. She pitied Sansa. She thought about all the times Joffery must have abused his powers on her. Surely, he feels as if he is doing some justice as well as feeling something close to sexual pleasure. Sansa seemed unharmed now, but tomorrow? Who knows?

The hour began growing late. Sienna left the training yard towards the keep. Her muscles ached a bit; her body felt weary and a small redness developed between her thumb and forefinger. She marched up towards her bedchamber, her sword lightly tapping on her hip inside its sheath. As she walked, she thought about tomorrow and possibly teaching Tommen some things. He has that new sword; what is the purpose of having one if he wasn't trained for one? Climbing up a flight of stairs, she spotted two figures down the corridor. Both were easily recognizable: The tall, broad one in black was Ser Sandor Clegane, her brother's bodyguard. A hard man, he had long scars going down from his scalp to his jaw; something from his childhood she heard. The person beside him was Sansa, her bed robe and small clothes flowing behind her.

"Sansa," Sienna came up beside her, "Clegane," She nodded towards him.

"Evening, my lady."

There was something different about Sansa. She tried fixing her disheveled hair, smoothing down the stray strands; puffiness ran around her eyes and she held her robe tight around her stomach. A small cut blemished her cheek, like a red stain on white porcelain. Sienna looked her over, but Sansa never glanced once. She quirked an eyebrow.

"What is wrong?" She asked. She met Sansa's eyes. "Why are you out so late?"

The girl's hand began shaking some, her eyes widened and she tried not glancing at Clegane. When Sienna whipped her head around, he said: "Joffery, my lady."

She looked at Sansa. "Sansa…Did my brother do this to you?" Sansa stayed silent. Sienna looked at Clegane, "Was this my brother's doing, Clegane?"

"It was indeed, my lady," He knew better than lying. Despite being two feet taller and much wider, Sienna wasn't afraid of Clegane. "And let me tell you, he wasn't kind about it."

Sienna's hands balled into fists. "He doesn't even…you're not even bleeding yet. Does he think he's accomplishing by…by doing this to you? Come Sansa. Clegane, go back to my brother and guard his door. I'll escort her back."

He merely nodded and marched away from them. Gently, she took Sansa by the arm. Sienna held her hand comfortingly, charging all her sympathy and worry through the gesture. Joffery had done bad things before, but never this way. Sansa said nothing the whole way back; Sienna felt in the state of sadness. She ignored all the images of Joffery forcing Sansa to undress under some kind of threat and then savagely taking her in his bed. She shut her eyes thinking about Sansa's screams, her struggles and cries. Sienna planned on killing her brother for this.

Sansa's handmaiden, Shae, a tall curly-haired girl with beautiful olive skin, came to them the moment they stepped in. She helped Sansa into a seat.

"It was horrible," Sansa finally said, sniffling and on the verge of tears.

"Tell me what happened," Sienna knelt in front of her while Shae cleaned the cut.

"He…Joffery…He told The Hound to come into my room to find me, and then when I…when I got into his room, Joffery told me to take off my clothes. I told him I didn't….That I didn't want to, but he threatened to kill me if I refused him. I took off my clothes…and then he…." She nearly sobbed, "He threw me onto the bed. He forced my legs apart…I screamed and screamed but nobody came in. I tried getting away, but he pinned me down…I was so scared. I couldn't do anything to stop him."

Her head fell onto Sienna's shoulder. Sienna stroked through the messy auburn curls, soothing Sansa's sobs quietly. The light stench of wine tainted the vanilla oil on Sansa's skin. She ordered Shae to draw a bath for Sansa, while she consoled the girl. Sienna never thought Joffery horrid enough for this. Maybe threaten people into doing bad things or using his power for terror, but she never thought he'd violate someone. No doubt their mother did not know. The image of a crying, screaming, horrified Sansa fighting away a drunken Joffery unnerved her. Her uncle had been right: Sana needed protection. She lifted Sansa's head up from her shoulder.

"You will never suffer through this again," She told her. "I will speak with Joffery on the morrow, and he'll think twice before forcing himself on you."

"But, he's the king. He'll have you-"

"-Joffery is just a little boy. I'm surprised he even knew what he was doing. I'll speak to him for you. You stay here and don't worry."

Sansa nodded. Sienna gave her a small smile, left her to Shae and then walked out of the room. Back against the door, she shut her eyes and exhaled. Clearly, Sansa would never defend herself against Joffery, especially with Clegane so close. She needed a hero. She needed a knight in shining armor. Sienna was no hero and no knight…but she did have a sword, and that seemed good enough.


	5. Chapter 5: Friends and Spies

Sienna did not see Joffery right away. In fact, she ignored him all through the week and into the next one. Her heart sank whenever she met Sansa's eyes. Apparently the girl expected immediate action. She anticipated a full blown reproach the next day in the throne room. She believed Sienna would jump at the chance for defense. No, Sienna kept her mouth shut while her brother abused his inferiors. A matter as tender as this one needed to be handled in closed quarters, alongside evidence and careful planning. Joffrey would no doubt deny any accusations. He would call her and Sansa liars; have some horrible punishment forced on them for 'disrespecting their king.' So, Sienna waited. Like a serpent on the move for the strike, she sat back in her chair beside the throne and said nothing. She hated hearing from Shae about how Sansa returns from his bedchamber in a torn nightdress and tears. She hated seeing the small cuts or bruises her brother had Ser Meryn lay on her. Joffery may be king; he may wear the crown, but that gave him no right to mistreat his subjects, especially his betrothed.

"Do they ever have blood on them?" She asked Shae one night.

"Some of them, but not all, my lady."

"Sansa hasn't flowered yet, has she?"

"No, my lady."

"Does my mother know that?"

"She does, my lady."

"Good. Bring me the next one that has blood. If I am going to do this, I need evidence."

Shae performed as asked. The next night she brought a pink satin gown ripped through the middle and spotted with blood on the torn seams. Sienna never understood why he tore the dresses. He could have just forced her by threat or something if he wanted her naked. However, she saw her brother's stupidity and rashness as an advantage. Their mother knew Joffery always acted before thinking; Killing Eddard Stark proved that much.

Two weeks came and went before Sienna struck. Walking into the small council chamber, she sat beside her mother in her red and aqua silk gown decorated with lily flowers. Once the council was seated, a man was brought in. According to her mother, this stranger was her mother's cousin who had been held captive by Stark. Sienna listened as the messenger spoke and handed over a piece of paper with Stark's demands.

"-The King and The Queen Reagent must release my sisters from captivity, and return the bones of my father and his men for proper burial. I also demand The King forsake all claim to The North and never step foot on our lands. If these terms are not met, there shall be no peace. Signed, Robb Stark, The King in the North," Her mother read nonchalantly. She tore the paper into four pieces in front of the council, tossing them aside.

"You've become rather good at ripping papers," Tyrion said.

"Why can't we just give the little wolf his meat?" Sienna asked irritably. "He's only going to continue fighting until he has what he wants; you know how stubborn these northerners are."

"Because The North belongs to your brother. The Seven Kingdoms are his by right, and we're not going to let some little boy take them from him."

"A little boy who's won every battle he's ever fought," Her uncle said.

"Not to mention has Uncle Jamie," Sienna added, "And he's not Stannis. Clearly, he doesn't want the throne. Otherwise he'd be marching his way here to claim it for himself. Mother, just give him what he wants, and he'll go running back to that cold pile of shit he calls home," Sienna said.

"We can't simply give him the North," Tyrion said. "We'd have to convince your brother to sign the papers, and we know he won't. He's too concerned with being King and ordering people around."

"Not to mention raping them too."

Everyone turned their heads her way. Quickly, her mother addressed Ser Alton, "I thank you, cousin, for bringing us this news. You can go back to our little wolf and tell him we refuse his demands. Let him come. Father can take care of him."

Ser Alton was led out of the room, and her mother immediately turned on her. "What are you saying?"

"Oh, you didn't know? Joffery's been taking Sansa into his bed, and from what she told me, it wasn't consensual," Sienna answered. "I came back from training a few days ago and spotted Sandor escorting Sansa back to her bedchamber. Being a good sister-in-law, I decided to escort her myself."

"And?"

"And she told me what Joffery had done, though there was no need. He ripped her dress open, she had a cut on her face from where he hit her and she shook like a leaf."

"You're lying," Her mother snapped. "It must have been the Hound or some other man who did it."

"Unfortunately, Your Grace," Lord Varys said, "My little birds have been twittering and they sing songs about The King requesting Sansa into his room every night. Some tell me she enjoys it; other say she's in tears and limping when she walks back."

"I've heard similar from my own," Lord Baelish spoke. "Joffery is quite vicious from what I've been told."

"I even have proof for you, Mother. Bring it in!"

In walked a lovely handmaiden holding the tattered satin nightdress. She presented it to the Queen, and then was dismissed. Her mother examined the fine cloth. Inside the back were dots of red. Sienna wondered what Joffery did for the blood spots to be there. If he had Sansa more than once, she shouldn't bleed anymore. Simply thinking about it made her shiver.

"Joffery did this?" She quietly said. "Are you sure?"

"She comes out of his chambers," Lord Varys said.

"I can send for Sansa to give a full account for you, if you wish. She's been at the hands of Joffery's cruelty far too long," Sienna told her. "I'm, for one, sick of it. What happens when Robb Stark finds out how his sister is badly treated and decides to do the same to Uncle Jamie?"

"Jamie is a man," Her mother responded. "Therefore he is perfectly capable of handling pain and torture."

"But what if Joffery gets carried away? What if he takes his 'fun' too far and kills Sansa? Are men stronger than death?"

"Cersei," Tyrion said, "Your son is vicious. He makes hasty decisions without thinking of the consequences."

"If anyone insults him, he demands they be executed-" Cut in Sienna,

"-Or orders someone give out a horrible punishment for their imagined 'crime'-" Tyrion said,

"-Not to mention he's an idiot already-"

"-A big one-"

"-Who just demands someone's head be lopped off if the man agreed to his terms and was going to take the black?-"

"-Which is not a very nice existence. I know, I've been there.-"

"Enough!" The conversation stopped at once. "I will speak with Joffery about his…activities with Sansa. I know it's not right what he's doing, but he is The King and he can do as he likes. If he wants to fuck whores, he can fuck whores and if he wants little noble virgins, he can have them too. This is no real concern at this moment. The girl hasn't flowered yet it doesn't matter how many times he bends her over."

"Sansa is not some nobody from a minor house," Sienna said, "She's a Stark. Whether you like it or not, they're an old, respected family. If Joffery ever spills a baby in her belly before their marriage…well, it won't look right for us will it?"

"Nobody would care-"

"-The gossipers would certainly care, Your Grace," Lord Baelish said, "Especially if they found out the manner it was done. They'll start calling him Joffery the Rapist or Joffery the Virgin Taker. The people already despise Joffery for everything he's done. We should not give them another reason."

"Then Joffery needs to act more carefully next time," Her mother tossed the dress aside. "I will speak with The King if it makes you happy, but don't expect him to listen to me. He never listens anymore."

"That's what happens when you give a dog a crown," Tyrion sighed, "It's hard to put the leash back on them."

The meeting ended on that note. Her mother dismissed everyone apart from Sienna. She groaned and rolled her eyes. She should have known better. Her mother would indeed see Joffery, maybe attempt to scold him, but she wouldn't put forth any effort. Cersei didn't care what happened to Sansa. She thought she was a simple little girl with big dreams of becoming a queen. People like Sansa were easy to keep under control. All her mother would need to do is threaten Sansa. There are no worries about her escaping, and even if she did, how would she do it? Where would she go? Her chances of surviving anyway past the gates were none.

_'I can go with her. I can take her across The Narrow Sea. I can show her Braavos, Pentos, Quarth, all of the cities. She'd love it. I know she would.'_

"Ser Slynt," Her mother called to the Commander by the door, "Tell Dyanna she may come in now."

_'I can protect her along the way. I'd have plenty of gold to buy a small house for us both, maybe purchase a servant for her. That way, I'll be allowed to hold her at night; kiss her lips as many times as I want, and spend the rest of my life with her.'_

Behind Ser Slynt walked a willowy sort of girl in layers of orange patterned with glossy yellow leaves; strands of shiny black hair falling around her waist. Her caramel skin stood her out beside Janos, who was tall, broad and pale. She smiled sweetly at the two nobles, giving a well-mannered curtsey. The look of her told Sienna this was a noble lady from some house in Dorne or perhaps across the sea. The comeliest girls always came from some foreign place.

"Sienna," Her mother addressed her, "This is Dyanna. I had her brought her all the way from Meereen."

"Well met, Dyanna," Sienna said.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, my lady," Dyanna said. Her accent was light, and wove in perfectly with her voice.

"Dyanna is your new bedmaid and handmaiden. You're a princess. You should have some company; perhaps she can keep you out of the practice yard and teach you more feminine things."

"A bedmaid?" She stifled a chortle. "Why do I need a bedmaid?"

"Contrary to belief, men do find you desirable. We don't want someone sneaking into your bed and raping _you_, do we?"

"They can try."

"Then you can use a friend. A female friend," Her mother looked at Dyanna, "Sienna was never that good at making friends with girls."

"I already have a friend," Sienna told her mother.

"Sansa is going to be your sister-in-law soon. She's obligated to befriend you if she wants Joffery to like her."

"Joffery wouldn't care."

"Then it'll give you something to take your mind off her and all her problems for a while. It's ridiculous how you always care about those beyond your help-"

"What can you do, Dyanna? What are your skills?" Sienna asked Dyanna.

"I do needlework. I can play the harp and lyre, dance, sing, entertain, and whatever else you may ask of me," Dyanna answered. "I used to be a handmaiden for a noble lady in Meereen, until Her Grace had someone buy me from her."

Sienna nodded. "Hm, I suppose I'll keep her around."

She kissed her mother's cheek, rose up from her seat and beckoned Dyanna to follow her. Sienna needed to tread carefully around this one. This girl could either be an act of her mother's supposed kindness or another spy. Everyone had spies; even The Queen.


	6. Chapter 6: Ours is the Fury

**A/N: **** Gosh, guys I'm so sorry this story's been on hiatus for like the LONGEST time! I'm getting back into it, so expect more. **

The pain blinded her in a brief flash of white. Right away she felt warm, sticky fluid run down the bridge of her nose; the smell filled her lungs almost instantly. She spat blood onto the cobbled floor; the pain made her shut her eyes tightly. He will definitely pay for that blow. If not by her, then her mother. Cersei hated Sienna getting injured. Not only because she was her child, but because it damaged the flawless outlook she had spent eight-teen years perfecting. She choked back a cry, and stood up straight. Sienna tried blocked the aching pulse in her nose; she must not let her pain show.

In the hot southern sun, Sienna's armor felt heavy on her body now. Sweat rolled down her brow and into her eyes; her smallclothes stuck to her body and strands of hair matted on her forehead. She stared at the man across the yard rushing her way, a look of horror on his pretty face. He was what her father would've called a greenboy. A squire to one of the other knights, he thought he could prove himself by beating the princess in a spare. However, a heavy blow of his elbow landed on her face.

Technically, they'd still be fighting. Though, the greenboy stopped.

"Oh Seven Hells...My lady!" Dravus sputtered as he came bounding up to her. "I'm...I'm-I'm so sorry! I-I-I didn-Didn't think the blow would hit you so hard! Oh, please! Please! Forgive me! I beg you!"

She caught him by the collar of his tunic, "Stop groveling, Dravus. Knights of the Kingsguard don't grovel. Fetch Maester Pycelle-"

"-There is no need, my lady," A voice said not too far away. Dyanne came into view from beside the table, "I can mend the injury for you."

"Dyanne, it's the maester's job to tend to wounds. He's learned in them," She replied. "Why don't you go start a bath in my chambers? Something to eat would be nice as well, if you please."

"He is an old man," Dyanne touched her arm. "It will take him a very long time to come down from his chambers. Please, allow me. I have mended such injuries before."

She had a point. She'd be half dead by the time Dravus reached Pycelle, and then officially dead by the time Pycelle arrived. Sienna dismissed Dravus and sat down on a chair by the table. It seemed Dyanne guessed she'd be injured somehow. On the table sat a small leather kit of medical supplies: thin string, scissors, linen bandages, ointments and disinfectants lined up the inside the case. She seemed quite experienced.

"Let us see the damage the boy left." Dyanne came dangerously close. Sienna spotted flecks of gold in her dark, almond-shaped eyes, the shine on her sun-kissed skin, and the sweet scent of peaches. She reminded Sienna of the girls in Lys. They were all curves, dark skin and pretty eyes until the clothes came off. "Thankfully, it is not broken, my lady. All I have to do is clean the wound, close it, and bind it, otherwise it shall fester."

"And we don't want that," Sienna smirked.

She watched Dyanne's hands tearing up a large piece of cloth, dabbing it in some sort of liquid and then cleaning all the excess blood. At first, Sienna never minded the cloth, until it reached the edges of the gash.

"Ah!" She winced, "What is that?"

Amused by her, Dyanne said, "A special elixir that disinfects most wounds. A lot of people use it in my homeland. The healers usually have it as a fine powder, though it is more effective if you mix in hint of water and wine. It's called Kohl."

"Kohl? Sounds interesting, stings like hell." She attempted not rubbing the khol so the wound wouldn't worsen. "I suppose your last lady taught you this?"

"Indeed." Dyanne finished wiping and cut a certain length of string. "She had two sons, about The King's age. They liked to fight many times, and many fights lead to many hurts. I was in charge of tending to them for a short while before she brought a true healer into the house."

"Hm," Sienna said. She remained still as Dyanne made the first stitch. The needle pricked slightly, though the overall dull pain of the grievance overpowered it easily. "We should have brought you here ages ago then. You would have saved Maester Pycelle tons of trouble when my brother and I were younger."

"Does the princess enjoy such things? Fighting and wielding swords?" Dyanne's tone did not discourage, only questioned.

"I do."

"Why? You can never go into a real battle like your father or his father before him. You will have to marry a nobleman one day, and bare his children while he fights your brother's wars. What do you prove by holding a sword?"

"That I'm not weak," Sienna answered. "When I was young I always had a fascination with combat. My mother said I inherited it from my father, and my uncle said I'll always love it no matter how hard my mother tries to take it out of me. I never held my own sword, of course, or owned armor; my father would only support my love of war so far in those days. I never pushed them into buying me a sword or shield. I never begged my Uncle Jamie for lessons. I'd just sit with my mother, a few noble ladies, and listen to them babble about this lady or that lord. Then one day, my father brought my mother and me along on a hunting trip. Naturally, she and I would be sent back to King's Landing before the day was out, but for the time being, my father wanted us all together.

I roamed around the woods by myself as I did. I picked out a bunch of wildflowers for my mother, and found a nice juicy apple my father might enjoy. As I walked on my way back, I spotted a black pig...a boar really. The largest one I had ever seen. It had tusks as long as my foot and beady little eyes blinking at me. He must've been seventy or eighty pounds. Being young, I didn't know what the pig would do: Would it attack me? I had no way of defending myself if he did. Surely, an eight-year-old girl posed no threat against a large beast; all I had in my hand were flowers and an apple."

"You had plants," Dyanne smirked.

"I didn't know that. He charged at me in a squeal. I thought my heart might jump into my throat. I didn't know what to do, so I caught the closest thing-this long tree branch-and plunged it into the pig's face."

"Oh my."

"It's not as bad as it sounds. I barely made a gash across the pig's eye; my father's spear gave the killing blow. He came up to me, pulling the spear out of the pig, and smiled. Here I was, sitting in fright and my heart pounding, and my father was laughing his hearty laugh." Sienna vividly saw him. Not the fat, bearded man brandishing a wineskin, but the tall, muscled man her mother married. "He said I had guts. He said I'd make an excellent solider, had I been a boy. He and Ser Barristan agreed I should learn how to defend myself if I ever came hunting again...So, the rest of the day my father taught me how to aim spears and shoot arrows at targets. Naturally, it wasn't a full lesson because the wine gradually overtook him, though for a time, he was what I always wanted to see: Robert Baratheon, mighty warrior and strong leader of the Rebellion against Aerys Targaryen.

That was when I decided I wanted that. I wanted to be like my father, or well, a bit if anything. I asked a blacksmith in the city for a sword and shield my size and balance. I couldn't have any armor, though I settled for padding my uncle retrieved from the tower's armory. My mother became so busy with Joffrey, she stopped scolding me and trying to throw away my padding."

"And your father?" Dyanne overlapped bandages onto each other on her nose.

"He praised me. He'd stand on his balcony and watch sometimes; he'd even come instruct me if he could. He'd point out maneuvers competitors used during tourneys, let me sit in council meetings, and even gave me my first real sword."

"Should he have not done this with His Grace rather than his daughter?" Dyanne asked.

"Yes, he should have. Joffrey always sought his approval. It was when Joffrey grew older that my father stopped having an interest in our family." She sighed, "I sometimes pity Joffrey...Maybe he would've come out better if our father paid any attention to him or if he had been born first...Maybe if our mother had not smothered him so much or if he followed me around more instead of her…"

Dyanne patched her up, and then Sienna stood. She ordered Dyanne that bath and food she requested while she stripped her armor off in the tower. Splitting ways, Sienna thought about her father. She remembered his large shoulders, coarse beard, in addition to his square jaw; the strong hands that lifted her up with complete ease, and the proud smile he beamed at her after a good swing or a perfect shot. People said she resembled him somewhat. She reached her private room: a small room containing a wash basin, a wardrobe holding her clothes, as well as a stand that holds her scraped and scratched armor.

She untied her armor piece by piece, placing on the hanger each time. She washed the sweat from her neck and face. She released her dark hair from its band so it fell down her back in a frizzy mess; slipped into a regular shirt, breeches and boots and buckled her belt on her hips. She then stood in the middle of the room. Piercing eyes gazed around the room until they fell onto the chest by the door. She walked over and opened the chest with ease. Inside were Sienna's old toys, little pictures she drew out of her charcoal pencils, her old study books, and at the very bottom something wrapped in linen. She carefully picked up the object. Her heart sunk down into her stomach; she felt it twist and knot her insides. She gulped down the upset lump in her throat. She ran a hand through her hair.

Sienna took a seat, resting the object on her lap. Carefully, she untied the strings from around the center and unfolded the cloth. Sitting across her lap was a short sword. Made of Valyrian steel, she examined the etchings engraved halfway down the blade. They spun readings of runes she couldn't understand (she guessed they were in High Valyrian). Her fingers wrapped around the hilt, worn out by constant use, white bindings around it and lines colored in gold. The blacksmith carved the head of a crowned stag on the top of the hilt; its eyes made of blue sapphires.

It had been her one-and-ten name day. Her father called her into his chambers before the archery contest, saying he had a gift for her. She thought it'd be a doll or a dress or jewelry like what her mother gave her. Instead, smiling proudly above her, he handed her the sword. He said every warrior needed a proper weapon; she deserved a weapon worthy of her skills. It had been the best present she ever received. She recalled the sheath she wore on her hip that day, how her father called her a warrior, how he said she will be as mighty as him one day and slay enemies in battles left and right. She remembered the joy in his eyes, the pride when she won the archery contest, and not to mention the toast he gave her.

'_To Sienna! The Golden Stag and her sword Stormbringer!'_

Tears stung her eyes. Sienna sometimes wished people forgot the Robert who died in his chambers. Everyone remembered the drunkard who ran the royal treasury into the ground; the loud man who plowed through whore houses like a plague; the man who took everything and gave nothing back. Sienna recalled the man who taught her all about war, who recounted countless tales of battle and combat, and who once trusted her with his safety. He never discouraged her. He never doubted her. Whenever bets were placed, he bet on her.

Now who did she have? A shit brother, a scheming mother, a baby brother and a girly sister. If the Master of Whispers wasn't shoving his nose in her doorway, the Master of Coin placed his spies all around her. If Uncle Stannis was not threatening them with an attack, there was Uncle Renly making allies with the roses. Uncle Jamie sat under the pup's nose in a cell, and Uncle Tyrion busied himself fixing the mess her brother created. None of the people she truly liked were gone. She felt so alone.

There was Sansa. Sansa, who brought light into every room; who taught her feminine things like needlepoint and songs. Sansa, who made her want to be someone else; someone better. Sienna knew she'll never have Sansa they way Joffrey will; it is wrong in the eyes of The Seven. Everything is wrong in the eyes of those stupid gods. They're nothing but cruel people who destroy people lives. Though, dreaming was harmless. Dreams of Sansa all in white, while she wore the proud colors of her house. They'd marry under whatever gods Sansa wished: The Seven, the mysterious Northern Gods, the eastern gods, or no gods at all; they'd have a beautiful wedding feast. She'd give into Sansa's pleas for a dance in a minute. Sienna would show her off to the world. Sienna would say, 'This woman is mine and I am hers'. She'd love her forever. If Sansa wanted children, she'd let her have them. They could raise up orphans or have a nobleman give Sansa the children she wants.

Sienna felt then she'd be happy.

"Sienna?"

Her mother's voice caught her off guard. She stood in all her beauty: long hair, flowing red and gold gown and eyes smiling at her appearance. Sienna gave her credit. She attempted ignoring the fact her daughter hardly dressed like a woman. It was when Myrcella came that Cersei slackened her grip on Sienna. She had another daughter to mold in her shape. Thankfully, it never worked. Myrcella is as much like her mother as is water is like wine.

"What happened to your face?" She gently touched her jaw, tilting her head side to side.

"Just an accident in the training yard; it's only a scratch."

Her mother's face read disapproval. She should feel ashamed, though she felt nothing. She only felt annoyance. She wanted to be alone in her room with her thoughts of Sansa and her laugh.

Her mother removed the cloth from the sword. "I remember this…Stormbringer…I absolutely hated your father for giving this to you."

"The man abused you, and _that's_ what you hate him for?" She quirked an eyebrow at her.

Her mother continued, "He said you'd make the perfect King were you a boy. He taught you all the things he should've taught your brother: swords, maces, axes, knives, archery, jousting, hunting….everything." Her fingers danced along the smooth steel, "I should've been teaching you how to sew, and dance, and sing and play the harp. I should've been having you recite poetry or read books or learn languages. You would be the envy of Westeros if you weren't like this. When you were a baby, I had so many hopes for you…and he destroyed them by encouraging these ridiculous wishes of yours."

"You had them all with Myrcella," She told her.

"I wanted them with you. You're gorgeous when you're not sweaty or covered with dirt from your travels. You're intelligent, articulate and loving. You'll make a wonderful wife some day, because whether you like it or not, it will happen."

"I will never marry," She said bluntly. Sienna covered the sword back up and returned it to its normal hiding place. "Ever."

"Yes," Her mother's voice came firmly, "You will. You're a princess; you were born for this. Typically, somebody worthy of you, of course; I will not have my daughter married to just any old minor house lord." She waltzed around the rest of the room, "So, all this will have to stop."

"Pardon?"

"Your grandfather sent a raven and he wishes to discuss marriage possibilities for you when he returns. So, this display of manhood has to change. He does not approve of your behavior. He never has," She said. She studied the armor, "Who gave this to you?"

"I bought it years ago," Sienna answered. "And I don't care what grandfather does or doesn't approve. You think I approve of him disappointing and humiliating us by losing to a greenboy who calls himself a King?"

"Sienna!" Her mother snapped. "Your grandfather isn't like you swinging at young boys who've never held a sword before or dummies made of wood. He'd fighting real people. He's killed living, breathing people who bleed blood when you stab them. It's not like the little games you play here. It's not like the occasional outlaw you encounter or the tavern fight. It's a war. It's you or them."

"Every combat is the same. Wars are just on bigger scales, and I've never been in one.'

"But I bet you'd like too. So then you can show everyone how strong and brave you are, so everyone can see how different you are from the rest of the noble ladies. You'd absolutely love everyone telling you how courageously you acted, how you were your father, how you were a true leader."

"I'm more than what Joffrey is!"

Cersei hesitated. Sienna wasn't wrong, far from wrong.

Her mother sighed. "Regardless, once your grandfather returns, he wishes to discuss possible matches for you. I'll have Dyanne start feminizing you."

"Feminizing me?"

"Refresh you in your harp and lyre lessons; teach you some poetry and proper manners. Maybe she can get you to stop eating like a wild animal and more like a Princess of the Seven Kingdoms…Though," She stared at her, "That news is not why I'm here."

"Really? What else is there? You plan on selling Myrcella to the Martells? Tommen to one of Walder Frey's daughters? The Seven know he has a million of them just sitting around in that pile of shit he calls a bridge."

"Your Uncle Jamie had a special gift made for you in your absence…" She paused a moment, and then continued, "He wanted it to be your welcome home present, but since you came back later than scheduled and he went off to war, he couldn't present it to you."

"Where is it?"

"Stop lamenting and follow me."

Her mother led her out of the private room into the armory. She told her mother whatever needed showing should be shown fast, because she had Dyanne in her chambers fixing her bath.

"How are you liking her?" Her mother asked, staring at her when they reached the door.

"She's pleasing. She does what I ask without complaint, she does it well, and she's a good conversationalist," Sienna replied. "I find her quite interesting actually."

"Hm," Her mother grinned, "Nice to hear you're getting along with someone of your own gender."

She turned and opened the door into the armory. The empty room contained nothing but weapons and shields; the window overlooked other parts of the Keep and she could see close to the gate from where she stood. Men manned the battlements along the top of the gates, stalked around the courtyards and stood beside doorways; she saw spotted her sister with some companions from afar, Tommen trailing after them. Her attention was quickly taken away.

On the opposite end of the room she spotted a display holding very familiar armor. Most of the ones in the room were mere helmets of past Captains of the Kingsguard, nothing of kings or princes. Yet, there she saw displayed for the world to see, the armor her father wore when he defeated Rhaegar Targaryen in the Battle of the Trident. The black metal appeared unblemished in the sunlight bouncing from the floor and into the rest of the room, large stag horns stuck out from the top of the helmet, and a yellow tunic bordered in black silk with the black stag of Baratheon printed on the chest, with dangling, perfectly polished chainmail. Close up, she realized the armor did not match her father's size. The narrow shoulders, oval shaped helmet, and smaller boots were not her father's.

"Why is it smaller?" She asked, running her fingers on the tunic.

"Uncle Jamie had it fitted for you. He took the original to a blacksmith who shaped each piece a smaller size," Her voice dripped with displeasure, though she simply sighed. "He asked that you wear it on your name-day tourney."

"What?" She looked behind her shoulder, "I didn't ask for a tourney. I told you I only wanted a dinner with the family and Sansa. We spent too much on Joffrey's name-day tourney already. We have a war going on, if you haven't noticed."

"I just thought it'd be a proper send off for all these childish dreams of yours," She gestured around the room. "You could wear the armor in the joust."

"You're letting me compete?"

Her mother looked defeated, though not letting her pride down. She sighed heavily again, "Only because your uncle requested and Joffrey and Tommen begged."

"Joffrey begged?"

"Said he thinks you being pegged off a horse might teach you a lesson; Tommen always enjoys seeing you fight."

"Sounds like him…So, you're going to let me compete? In the joust? Not just the archery or melee?"

"In the joust and any other contest you wish. Perhaps that day you can be the champion your father always dreamed you would be…"

Sienna stared at her. She searched those emerald eyes that tried masking their disappointment with love.

All in all, Sienna was Cersei's oldest daughter. Jamie truly had this armor made for her; Tommen bounced up and down about seeing his older sister in the tourney, and she knew it'd make Sienna happy. If the Queen could, she'd let Sienna continue having her fun. Only because she'd delight in seeing Sienna's future husband wiggle and squirm underneath her blunt comments or hard stares and glares. Her intimidation, her strength and prowess could make a little Frey boy uncomfortable. No doubt Tywin will give her to a Frey.

Sienna saw nothing. No dishonesty. No secrets or plots hidden in her mother's eyes. She let her lips curve into the lopsided smile Cersei remembered once on Robert's face. Sienna briskly came towards her mother, hugging her.

"Thank you, Mother," She said. "I'll make you proud."

"I know you will, my love."

The both of them left the armory for the base of the White Tower, where they split ways. Siena began thinking of all the jousting tips her father and Uncle Jamie gave her, as well as the ones knights she once knew told her. She needed to prepare.


	7. Chapter 7: Vanilla Peaches

A warm bath washed off the dirt on her skin, and chose fresh clothes. She opted for a dress this time, having Dyanne braid her hair and tie on a proper corset. She asked Dyanne several times if the dress fit her right or if it looked nice. She refused seeing Sansa dressing as a fool. No make-up, she did have a light lavender scent her mother used dabbed on her skin.

"Is there someone you wish to impress, my lady?" Dyanne smirked, putting her dirty tunic in a basket.

"No," She answered. "I just…I might dress like a man, but I want to prove to my mother I can be a woman too if I wish it."

"Of course, you can be a woman, my lady." Dyanne stood beside her as they looked into the mirror. She did that thing again. Dyanne batted her eyelashes and smiled prettily, letting the gold in her eyes show and the softness in her lips appear in a curl. Sienna stood watching as she adjusted the sleeve of her jade-colored dress. "You are a lovely one, naturally."

"A lovely one?"

"Your lady mother is as gorgeous as they say, and so is Princess Myrcella, so you must be beautiful too, yes?" She asked, brushing invisible dust of the shoulders.

"I don't always feel it. I can never be like the other ladies at court or like my mother or my sister. Once this tourney is over, I have to give everything up. I have to stop being who I am because my grandfather is unhappy about it and because my husband will be too. I don't even know who this husband will be, yet there's many presumptions made already. Like, what if he likes a woman who can defend herself? What if he likes having a little friendly competition once in a while?"

"Then you two will get along," She helped her slip into a pair of beaded heels. "I know people in my homeland who would love to marry someone as strong as you, regardless of your sex."

Dyanne stood to her level. Dyanne carried something in her that made her so alluring. The peaches reached her nostrils once more, coming in through and filling her lungs. The smell played as a aphrodisiac mulling her over. It stirred something inside Sienna. Not the pure feelings she had for Sansa, but the kind that surged whenever she entered a brothel. Dyanne's body dipped and curved unlike the westerosi women. She carried this completely unintentional seduction in her eyes. Her plump lips tempted Sienna for a second before she snapped out of it.

"Because it means you are a provider. You can protect them from their enemies, and defend their honor." Her body came closer to Sienna's; her skin radiated a pleasant heat that drew the princess closer. "It means you are willing to lay down your life for those you love. It means you have a heart…it can even mean," She came closer, her face close enough to kiss, "You are a skilled lover."

In a split second, Sienna saw Sansa. She'd be smirking the same way; her eyes giving that same flirtatious sign and her lips drawing in to hers. Then Dyanne came back, and she felt diminished. Sienna suddenly turned her head. "I should go," She coughed awkwardly, "My mother is expecting, and you know how famished I am."

"Of course, my lady." Her disposition remained the same, though Sienna saw the regret in her eyes.

The two walked down to a small dining area where her mother sat with Myrcella, Tommen and Sansa. Handmaidens lit candles in corners of the room, placed bowls of fruits, bread, sides and trays of meat on the table, and filled cups of wine or water. She sat on the other side across from Sansa beside Myrcella and her mother. Dyanne set a plate for her: Boar, potatoes, peas and bread. Her eyes glanced across the table towards Sansa. She ate so quietly and dainty, yet something was wrong. Sienna saw a tension in Sansa's shoulders, a fear she tried concealing from the family, and her eagerly keeping her eyes from The Queen. She suspected why Sansa was so scared.

"Sienna!" Myrcella saw the bandages on her sister's nose, "What happened to you?"

"A squire was a little too careless with his punches," She explained. "It's nothing to worry about, Myrcella."

"It looks horrible!"

"It's not as bad as it looks," She saw her sister's disbelieving look, "Really, Myrcella. It's nothing."

"Did you hit him back?" Tommen asked.

"No, I couldn't. The boy started pleading with me like I was going to kill him…It's his own fault really since he challenged me."

"He underestimated you," Her mother grinned, "Just as he will if he meets you in the joust."

Sansa's head perked up from her plate. Myrcella gasped, but Tommen beamed, "You're going to compete?!"

"Mother's letting me," Sienna answered. She cut into her meat and chewed, "I have proper armor now."

"She's only doing it once," Their mother told him. "Then, she can help me with Joffrey's wedding. You must help me," She said over Sienna's groan, "I want to have Sansa and Joffrey married before the new year begins. A new king, a new beginning."

"Not a very good beginning if you ask me," Sienna mumbled.

She saw the terror of her impending marriage in Sansa's eyes. She'll be subjected to Joffrey's torment for the rest of her life if she marries him. Honestly, Sansa will make a wonderful Queen and a wonderful wife if Joffrey treated her better. The girl ate quietly, not adding a comment or making a sound as the family talked around her. Sienna glanced at her every so often through dinner, but she hardly moved except to eat.

"-Mother says I'm to have a new gown for the feast, and another for the ceremony," Myrcella said, " Sienna will too. We'll pick them together, won't we Sissy?"

Sienna nodded, "Why wouldn't we? I can't wait."

They shared a smile. She turned to Sansa, "And your dress will be ivory since you're the bride."

When Sansa said nothing, her mother spoke, "The Princess just spoke to you."

Is it wrong that Sienna almost snapped at her mother?

"Pardon me, Your Grace," Sansa looked at Myrcella, "I'm sure you're both going to look beautiful, Myrcella. I'm counting the days until the fighting's done, and I can pledge my love to The King." Sienna could hear the rehearsal in the words.

"It'll be a wonder if anyone even notices you're there," Her mother said. She turns to Sienna, "Sienna tends to overshadow everyone when she walks into the room. At least, when she's not grungy and dirty, covered in sweat and wearing men's clothing."

"I don't overshadow people," Sienna said, "And Sansa will look…gorgeous. Everyone in the sept will not be able to take their eyes off of her, I'm sure of it."

"Thank you for saying so," Sansa said.

"Perhaps you can have your dress done with mine and Myrcella's? Would you like that Myrcella?" She asked her sister.

"Yes!" Myrcella piped up, "It can be just us girls!"

"Mother?" Tommen looked at Cersei. His voice dropped from its excitement, his green eyes giving his mother a sort of worried look, "Is Joffrey going to kill Sansa's brother?"

A heavy silence came over the room. Sienna stopped drinking her wine mid-way, setting down the glass and carefully glimpsing at Sansa. She imagined how horrible it must be know somebody will kill your brother; Sienna knows Joffrey will not survive past this war. She can feel it. Vicious kings like him don't die natural deaths; King Aerys was a perfect example.

"He might," Her mother's voice broke the quietness like a knife. She glanced at Sansa, and then at Tommen, "Would you like that?"

Tommen paused. He thought for a moment, and then said "No…Not really…"

"And you, Sienna?" She looked at her, "Would you finally like to be rid of the wolf?"

Sienna could've slapped her. She wasn't out of reach. She gripped her fork tightly, and then said, "It'd be nice to have one nuisance off our hands." She saw Sansa's eyes and added, "If it were me, I'd just give him what he wants and send him back, I've told you this. Killing him would either send the rest of the northerners into a bloodlust for revenge or completely shatter the north."

"Wouldn't that be good?" Tommen asked.

"No, because when we try to rebuild, they won't trust us," Sienna answered. "The North is too big and wild to be handled by outsiders. They'll try to rebuild themselves which may or may not succeed."

"Who can handle the North if not my brother?" Sansa asked.

Sienna paused, "Perhaps Lord Umber or Bolton, since they seem to be his loyalist bannermen right now. Joffrey is too stupid in passing out positions on his own, so no doubt grandfather will make the decision."

Sansa gulped her drink. She saw the sadness in her eyes, the pain of her anguish filling her up like a disease.

"But I wouldn't kill him," Sienna told her. "He's a strong warrior, and from all the battles he's won, he has his father's talent in strategy. He'd make a better ally than enemy."

"You would? The boy who murdered your grandfather's men? The boy who is trying to steal your brother's crown? The boy who holds your Uncle Jamie hostage?" Her mother sounded affronted.

"Grandfather's men know what they're going into when they charge into battle. Robb Stark has no interest in the throne; he's made it clear," She swallowed a few bits of her meat, "He's had Uncle Jamie for months. He could have killed him at any moment, at any time, and for any reason. We killed his father, so why not? A head for a head. Though, he hasn't. I'd negotiate with him. Those terms can be negotiable."

"Your father wouldn't have done that."

"Well, contrary to what you believe, I'm not him." She looked at the table, "So, Tommen, have you used the short sword I got you?"

* * *

"You'd make a great Queen."

She froze. Dyanne remained behind in the kitchen cleaning, so Sansa found her alone. Rested on its point, she polished her sword wordlessly as thoughts ran through her head. She contemplated the tourney coming in four days. Who would her opponent be? She hoped somebody of equal measure. She imagined her mother would have her go against a squire or one of the news knights. They wouldn't want the princess versus a more experienced man. Gods forbid she'll be injured or harmed in the joust, which has been known to happen. Hopefully the person won't be easy on her. Her father told her they used to do that with Prince Rhaegar; they couldn't unhorse the prince in the chance they might impair him.

Though, Sansa's voice interrupted her thoughts. She stood up right away, placing her sword on her desk. "Sansa," Sienna said, "What brings you here so late?"

"I…I don't mean to bother you," She said.

"Oh no, you're not being a bother, my lady," Sienna reassured her. "Please, sit. Would you care for some wine? Water?"

"Water, please."

She sat in the chair while Sienna poured a cup of water for her. She noticed the steadiness in her. Usually Sansa carried fear inside her everywhere. She'd stay quieter than a mouse in the Queen's presence and speak only when spoken to; she hardly looked up unless the person across from her called her attention. Here, she had that same fear. Sienna handed her the cup. She ran a hand through her hair, staring around. Nerves bundled inside her stomach, licking her dry lips and trying to swallow her drying throat. She studied Sansa another moment. She wore a robe over a powder blue night gown, matching slippers snuggly on her feet and her hair tied back in a band. Sienna had not dressed for bed, though had changed out of the dress she wore.

"Thank you," Sansa said, sipping the water.

"So, Sansa," She leaned against the desk, "What brings you here so late?"

She hesitated and said, "Joffrey…"

"What has he done?"

"I needed somewhere to hide. I needed somewhere The Hound wouldn't find me so he can bring me to Joffrey. I thought…Oh its stupid! I shouldn't have come here! I'll get you in trouble!" Sansa moved to stand, but Sienna grabbed her wrist.

"No, it's not. Please, sit and tell me," Sienna brought her over to a loveseat close by the balcony, where they'd have a perfect view of the night sky. "You're not stupid for wanting to hide. Not everyone is brave all the time, and honestly, I do not blame you for wanting to run from him. He's cruel and brutal to you when he shouldn't be."

"You said you'd handle it," Sansa said, tears pooling into her eyes, "You said he'd stop."

The knife plunged into her chest. She wiped a rolling tear from Sansa's cheek, "You have nothing to fear, Sansa. Joffrey has been told that he can no longer…do what he was doing before. My mother told his the risks of someone finding out he hurt you."

"He still has Ser Meryn slap me. He's always finding ways to torment me! He humiliated me in court today! He had The Hound strip me naked! In front of everyone!" Tears poured down her rosy cheeks, her sobs tore into Sienna's heart and broke it piece by piece, and her hands clutched the cotton fabric of her robe. "I hate him! I hate him and I have to pretend like I love him or they'll kill me!"

"Honestly, my love, that's not why they'd kill you…Look here, stop…Stop crying…Sansa, drink this and stop," She let her drink and then held the girl's jaw in her hands, cleaning her tears with a handkerchief from the desk. Her eyes still drowned in tears, her lips quivered apart and her face had a puffy look to it, "Look at me…The reason my mother hasn't killed you yet is because your brother has our uncle hostage, just like we have you here. She keeps telling everyone it's because you're Joffrey's betrothed, but that's the real cause. We could've traded you and your sister for him, but since my witless brother lost your sister, we only have you. And yes, we'd trade you still, if we weren't afraid of what your brother might do to Jamie if he found out we lost your sister and were mistreating you.

Naturally, you'll have to keep up this ridiculous charade of loving Joffrey and being loyal to him because it'd be suspicious if you acted otherwise…but you mustn't be afraid of him…"

"What?"

"That is what Joffrey likes," She leaned into her. "He likes that he terrifies you. He likes being in control. He delights in humiliating others and degrading people he believes are beneath him. Before, he could only expand his torment to so many, but now he's the king…He can do it to anyone."

"I try not being afraid of him. I really do…but he makes it hard. I'm just so frightened all the time. I'm always afraid of talking to people because they might be Lord Baelish's spies or Lord Varys's or the Queen's and I feel like I can't trust anyone anymore." She rested her head on Sienna's shoulder, "I just want to go home, and they won't let me. I'm not allowed to go anywhere without someone following me. People are always watching me; they're expecting me to do something treasonous. I would never do anything treasonous. I even promised I wouldn't, but they don't believe me."

Sienna paused, "Would you like it if I were your guard?"

"What?"

"I know they have a guard on you wherever you go, plus your handmaidens as well. I can remove your guard and…you wouldn't…" She coughed, "You…I can protect you…I mean, if someone wanted to hurt you, I'd be there or you wouldn't feel as terrified or…or you won't feel as surrounded or suffocated…" She glanced at Sansa's face quickly, "If it you wish it of course. I won't force my presence on you. Never."

Sienna feared her silence meant 'no'. She'd love being in Sansa's company. Everything else in King's Landing seemed so chaotic or mysterious. You never knew who was doing what and where and why. You played their game because if you don't play, you die. However, how can you play a game if the other players are hidden in shadows? You can't win a game if you don't have all the pieces. Sansa was a piece in the game; a pawn they moved here and there without telling her why. They all lied to her. Everyone here is a liar, and some of them are actually pretty good liars. Not great liars though. No.

Then she said, "Would you really do that for me, my lady? Follow me? Be my guard?" Her voice sounded so small; uncertain of any real intentions.

She took Sansa's free hand, "Yes, I would. We're going to be family soon, aren't we?"

Sansa nodded. Sienna gently helped her stand from the sofa. She suggested if Sansa wished she could stay in Sienna's chamber tonight. Her heart pounded when she nodded.

Lying beside her, Sienna wondered what it'd be like if she and Joffrey were switched: She had been the boy and Joffrey the girl.

"You said I'd make a great Queen…" Sienna began, "Why did you say that?"

Sansa opened her eyes, the dim candles giving her eyes a small glint. "Because you would. You care about people. You can love. You're strong, and can fight, but you're not brutal or evil. Joffrey wants to kill my brother, but you wouldn't. You said you'd spare him…you'd negotiate with him so we all get what we want."

"I find it silly to kill someone who I can benefit from." _'Also, I knew killing him would hurt you, and that is the last thing I'll ever wish to do.'_ "Surely, if I could speak to him or your lady mother for that matter, we'd reach some sort of agreement. All your mother wants is you and your sister. All your brother wants is the independence of the North. I can give them both that…well, not your sister…" She turned to her, "Any idea where she'd want to go? Besides Winterfell?"

Sansa shook her head, "Arya only ever talked about going home. She hated it here…She knew before me how horrible this place was."

"It's not all that horrible. King's Landing has its good points like all cities do. If you get out past the gates, there's a lot you can see…What's your favorite dessert?"

"Lemoncakes," Sansa grinned.

Sienna smirked, "I know a woman who makes the best desserts in the Seven Kingdoms: Cakes, pies, tarts, even hard candies. I can take you there tomorrow if you like."

"I'd like that."

Sienna beamed. Dyanne returned when Sansa already slept, so she scooted in behind Sienna after blowing out the candles. Dyanne's arms around her waist, her head so close to Sienna's, a mixture of scents came over her: Sansa's faint vanilla and Dyanne's exotic peaches. In a normal situation, Sienna would take advantage of the girl lying behind her; she'd take the girl who seduced her so easily this afternoon. She'd flip her on her back, settle between her thighs and touch her the way she asked. Yet, Sienna only thought about-and dreamed-about Sansa.


	8. Chapter 8: The Baker's Boy

Funnily enough, if somebody walked through The Street of Flour, they'd never know it was part of Flea Bottom. The vast bakeries and tiny pot-shops overpowered the usual King's Landing stench with bread, treats and stews, and everyone there appeared better fed. Sienna remembered bringing Tommen and Myrcella here years ago. She'd bought them mince pies and biscuits from the baker down the street, a thin woman who lived with her son. The pot-shops gave bowls to the poor, and a few of the bakers may be kind to pass out leftovers or stale treats. However, the poor and hungry still roamed around hoping for a small portion. It hurt her whenever she saw a pot-shop turn a child or elder away because they ran out of stew. Everyone should have a full belly, not just those who could afford it.

In the middle of the day, Sienna and Sansa walked through the street with two city watchmen following them. Sienna told Sansa they'd have to be careful if they went out, so they dressed plainly. She wore her usual shirt, jerkin, breeches and boots with a sword belt around her hips, while Sansa picked a plain brown and white dress, and pinned her hair a bun; Dyanne concealed her auburn hair in a white handkerchief. Even in peasant's clothes, Sansa looked wonderful. Sienna couldn't overlook how her skin glowed, her eyes sparkled and her laugh seemed so genuine. In the Keep, her laughs were false or quiet. Here in the open air, outside the stuffy Keep and out of the eyes of her mother, Sansa seemed different. Was this the Sansa from Winterfell? The real Sansa Stark? Full of stories of childhood and happy memories? Sienna loved this Sansa the best.

"Did you always come here?" Sansa asked an arm linked around Sienna's, "When you were younger?"

"Yes, I did. My mother used to bring me here and buy me sweets if we passed through," Sienna paused, "When she was better."

"So, she was not always so…"

"Horrid? Conniving? No. She wasn't. When I was younger, she'd been kinder. I'd love to say it's my father's death that has made her such a bitter woman, but it's not. She turned sour even before he died. She's just good at pretending like she's happy and innocent," Sienna said as they passed a crowded pot-shop. "She's good at pretending like she's doing it for Joffrey, even though it's really for herself."

"How can you still love her then?" Sansa asked, "If you think she is so selfish and greedy?"

"I don't know…because she's my mother and a child's love is unconditional?" Sienna then turned it on her, "How about your mother? Lady Catelyn? I remember her from my last time in Winterfell. I remember her kindness. She had been a very honorable woman too."

"She still is. I try to be like her sometimes. Whenever Joffrey's cruel to me, I wonder what my mother would do if she were there. Then I remember she isn't with me; that she's in the North with my brother."

"Our parents are always with us," Sienna said. "In our minds and in our hearts, they're taking care of us."

"She would take care of me, if she were here. People say I look a lot like her when she was young."

'_You certainly have her beauty'_. Sienna recalled Lady Catelyn Stark being a tall, elegant woman with auburn hair and blue eyes. Even after birthing five children, she maintained her beauty. "She had been kind to me when I first went to Winterfell with my father. I remember she's the one who stopped your older brother from teasing me because I had cropped my hair."

"Why did you crop your hair?"

"Joffrey had been playing with Maester Pycelle's jar of glue and ran it in my hair," Sienna recalled. "My mother couldn't wash it out so we had to cut my hair. My father told me I looked like a boy. I felt so humiliated." She snorted back a laugh, "Your brother teased me, along with your father's bastard. They thought it was so funny seeing a princess with short hair. Your mother urged them to keep on laughing and see that I didn't clot them on the ears with my sword. She said she saw me do it to one of the guards earlier, and now he was missing an ear because I accidentally sliced it off. 'Do you want to be missing an ear, Robb?' She had said."

"That was my mother," Sansa nodded, giggling with her. "Very witty and protective. She has always been protective of us..." Her thoughts trailed for a while, "She is always so strong and brave. I'm not surprised she's with Robb at his camp. Not fighting, of course, but supporting him and giving words in his war council. My father used to take her opinion if she gave it. She wouldn't like sitting at home doing nothing while her oldest son is fighting off in a war."

"But Robb's a capable leader."

"Mothers never see it that way, do they? Like, the Queen never let you compete because she was forever afraid you'd get hurt. She's protective of you even if you don't notice it. She's only letting you now because you'll have to marry someone soon."

"And they want to suck out who I am," Sienna added, "And make me into someone else. They want me to be this gorgeous, graceful princess everyone will love and adore; they want me to play the harp, sing songs, wear nice dresses and sit back while the boys do all the fighting."

"What's wrong with that?" She could hear the teasing in her tone.

"Nothing. It's just…not who I am, that's all. I don't want a husband who will order me around. I don't want a man who will treat me like a second-class citizen because he's the man and I'm the woman."

"Not all marriages are horrible," Sansa explained. "My parents loved one another very much, for instance. My father respected my mother's opinions highly, and he appreciated her. They adored each other. I think matches are only bad if we make them seem bad; if we don't make the best of them, they destroy us."

"Is that why you stand Joffrey? You hope one day he'll love you?"

A scream broke into their conversation. They both looked up ahead and saw people fleeing from a bakery. Sienna told Sansa to stay with their guard, and she walked up ahead. She expected a thief or a group of them, though she witnessed the opposite. Two city watchmen, their gold cloaks shining the sun, walked out in their silver and gold armor carrying a small boy between their arms. The boy, thin and black-haired, screamed and struggled against the unavoidable strength of the grown men; he cried for his mother, and tears poured down his face. The mother, the baker Sienna knew well, called out and sobbed, begging for the men to leave him; that he is only a boy, and will do no harm. Sienna did not fully understand. Why were the arresting the boy? What had he done? Then, she saw one of the men pull a knife from its sheath, pushing the boy so his head tilted backward and his neck exposed. She gasped.

"Stop!" She cried, running towards them, "Stop this now! I order you!"

The two men froze. They hadn't expected the princess to be in the middle of Flea Bottom. She stepped forward, "What is going on here? Unhand that boy."

"We cannot, my lady. We're here on The King's orders," One of them replied

"The King's orders? What would he want with this boy?"

"We don't know. We were just given orders."

'_No wonder you're in the watch.'_ She thought. "Let him go…Now."

"We cannot."

"You can. Let him go. The boy hasn't done anything wrong," Sienna said.

"No."

"Let him go before I slice your ear off," Sienna warned them. "I am the princess, and you will do as I say. Release him."

"Don't!" Janos Slynt walked out of the bakery, wiping crumbs from his beard and glaring down at her. "My lady, we have the King's orders to get rid of people who threaten the crown, and this boy threatens the crown."

She examined the boy. Dark hair hung over his piercing blue eyes, tears dropping from his square jaw and his body shaking in fear. She recognized him. He is one of her father's bastards. Her father had a habit of taking women all over King's Landing, so naturally he fathered bastards. Nobody truly cared about them because there was no way any of them could take the crown. Joffrey must've thought they would.

"Let him go, Slynt, and everyone will forget this all happened," Sienna reasoned. "My brother isn't going to care if you miss one boy. Have mercy on him. He is only a little boy; he will do you no harm. He can't do the crown any harm."

"I can't do that, my lady. I have to do my duty." She saw this was more for his own malice and enjoyment than duty.

"Oh? So you care about duty and honor now? When it means slicing an innocent boy's throat open?" She asked.

"Yes."

Sienna couldn't stop him. She wasn't fast enough. Her hand barely reached him before the knife cut through his skin. The boy's sputters mixed with his mother's screams, and the air no longer smelled of bread and pies. He crumbled to the ground in a heap, his blood pooling on the cobbled street drop by drop. He shook for a few minutes in his pain; then he ceased, his body curled up as if asleep. The Gold Cloaks stood aside as his mother rushed over to him, holding his lifeless form in her arms and cursing anyone she could think of to The Seven. Sienna thought her heart stopped. The world paused in the one instant it took for Slynt to slice a young boy's neck. She stared at him. There was no remorse or regret in him.

"You will regret this, Slynt," Sienna said. "I will make sure of it."

"I doubt it. I'm under your mother's protection." He called for his guards to follow him. "She said I'd be protected from little meddlers like you."

"If you think she's your friend, you're a fool!" Sienna called after him. "You're just as disposable to her as everyone else is!"

A delicate hand touched her arm, though she hardly felt it, "I'll make sure your head ends up on a spike for this! You can't kill innocents and call it justice! You can't! You can't….You can't…."

No tears came, though a hole drilled into her chest. Sienna stared at the group of men until they disappeared from view, and then turned to the baker. She saw the woman, still clutching her child and sobbing, and knew not what to say. How can you apologize for your brother? when he's killed so many and taken so much? How can you apologize for the death of a child? Joffrey might have killed the occasional animal or two in his time, and ordered certain people to death, but a child? A child whose only crime was being a King's bastard? She reached out for the baker, and then pulled back.

It was Sansa's arms who came around the suffering woman eventually. Sienna ordered two men from the shop to wrap the boy in a blanket and take him inside so no more eyes can look on him. Women came out with wash buckets, and began soaping the blood off the stones. Sansa whispered words of comfort, wisdom and faith to the baker, who continued sobbing and rocking on her haunches.

"Is this The King's justice?!" A thin man, ragged and in tattered clothes, came towards them with a walking stick. Sienna suddenly recognized him. He had been the man she gave gold to when she first returned to King's Landing. He was a preacher? "Is this the mercy of our 'beloved King Joffrey!'?!"

Sienna sensed the crowd forming around him. She feared a riot might ensue, but that didn't seem to be the sense in these people. Sadness and shock were in these people's eyes.

"What kind of person orders the death of a young, innocent boy?! Who would dare spill the blood of an innocent?! An abomination! A seed of evil and incest! That is who, my fellows!"

'_Incest?' _She listened as the girls helped the woman from the floor.

"The whore queen's seed has just begun dispersing his so-called justice! Who else must pay the price for this bastard's whims?!" He asked, the crowd nodding and calling out.

"No one!" Sienna called out. The crowd turned their heads; the preacher stared her way. Surely, he remembered her. "No one else will pay this price!"

The preacher saw her. "The prodigal daughter! The stag's child! The Golden Stag! Has graced us with her presence! She has come to see how the other half lives."

"I know how the other half lives; I have lived like the other half, sir." He gave her a skeptical glance, "In the Free cities, I have lived like all of you. Nobody there knew or cared who I was, nor did I even tell them. I worked for the coin I had in my pockets, I drank ale in the taverns and slept on straw beds in inns. I have slept on hard ground in the woods; I have killed for my meals even. I once lost all my gold and my boots in a game of dice, if you'd believe it," Some of the men in the crowd chuckled. She looked at them all, "I know you all suffer. I see your children starve in the streets, your women trade their bodies for coins, and you nearly helpless to do anything. You see injustice. You see unfairness and aren't shown any kindness or mercy by the people sworn to protect you."

She walked towards the preacher. The group parted in each step, letting her come closer and closer to the man standing on the old rickety box. He did not move. He did not show fear or pity. She saw anger in his tired eyes.

"Good sir," She said, standing a few feet from him, "I remember you from when I first returned to King's Landing. You had been walking near one of the taverns, begging for coin. I gave you almost half my purse at the time. Tell me your story. What led you to becoming a beggar?"

He straightened himself up. "My name is Elias, and I used to run a tavern in The Hook. It was a special one. I had singers and murmurs shows there to entertain my customers. I was very well know in those parts, and I still am."

"What happened to your tavern?"

"The King rose the tax on taverns. One day, the city watch came for the tax, and when I did not have it, they closed my tavern...They took everything I loved from me. That tavern was my life. It was handed down to be by my father, and his father before him. Murmurs everywhere came to perform there; bards were honored to play, were they not?" He turned to the people around him, and a few nodded. "Your brother stole my life from me. The bastard isn't fit to be King, and neither are the other two."

"I agree. He isn't fit for the job. He never was fit. He's violent, vicious and incredibly stupid. He started a war that has affected all of you, and doesn't care. He has his men killing your children in the streets because of they happen to share the same father. Joffrey Baratheon is no King! He is an animal, who deserves to have his head on a spike...not under a crown..."She told them all. She touched Elias's shoulder gently, feeling the hard bone underneath his thin shirt and the anger leave him little by little. "I am sorry for your loss, Elias. I wish I could give you back the life you once knew. Perhaps, when this is over, and the war is done, you will have your tavern back." She pressed her coin purse to his chest, "Here. Take this. You need it more than I ever will."

Tears filled Elias's wrinkled eyes, "Thank you, my lady."

"And this," Sansa came behind her with the two watchmen. In their hands, they held large baskets of bread and pies from the shops, "We hope this will feed you all."

That was when it happened. Elias started, and the rest followed him. They bent their knees. Every man and woman in the Street of Flour rested one knee on the stones and bowed their heads. Sienna hesitated. She knew everyone in The Red Keep will hear about this: How the people respect a princess more than their own king. Her brother and mother will be furious. They both want Joffrey to hold the power over the people, not her. Though, can you ever hold power over someone? And if you can, how long does it last before it breaks?

"Please stand," She said, "Don't bow for me. I am no King."

"But, you'd make a great Queen," Elias said, when he stood, "A Queen I'd want to rule." Several people agreed with him.

A smile came over them both. An understanding between them hung in the air as Sansa and Sienna equally passed a loaf of bread and a pie to each person in the street. Women got on their knees and kissed her feet, praising her in the name of The Father, men came and shook her hand happily, and children came with flowers and other trinkets for them both. Was this was admiration was like?

* * *

The pot-shop owners came into the street, it was said, an hour or so later and handed bowls of stew to everyone that passed. People celebrated in the taverns, hoisting up their cups to a someone else. Not King Joffrey. Not King Stannis. Not King Renly or King Robb...but Queen Sienna.

She thought about Elias and the people on her way home. She thought about the stories they shared while she undressed for supper. She thought about how this is not the King's Landing she recalled in her bath. She thought about, mostly, the little boy who died in the street that day as she chewed mutton silently at dinner. The little boy who never became a man; whose mother never saw him grow into maturity and fall in love and marry or have children. His mother, who cannot be comforted by bowls of stews or hot cherry pies tonight.

She toasted her glass of wine to them instead.


	9. Chapter 9: Rumors

The Tower of the Hand stood not too far from her own apartments, so the next day, Sienna had no trouble getting there. In matters like this, people go to the King or Queen. They kneel at the foot of the Iron Throne, wait until asked to speak, and then make their request. The King or Queen then passes judgment or finds a solution to the asker's problem. However, seeing as the King is an idiot and the Queen isn't much help anymore, Sienna took her complaint to the Hand of the King, the second most powerful man in the entire Seven Kingdoms...and the person she trusted the most.

She walked up the flight of stairs towards her uncle's chambers and knocked on the door. Tyrion responded.

"You may enter."

Her uncle sat at a table littered in books and papers near a dark-haired, bearded man in boiled leather and wool. The Hand's chambers looked different from the last Hand (or well, the one before Ned Stark) Jon Arryn. Jon kept books all over his room, as well as scrolls of history to refer back to when making decisions; small trinkets and relics would clutter the shelves that he said were from his previous ancestors. Tyrion seemed to keep that tradition alive. Some trunks, though, remained unopened or half unpacked. She thought about sending someone to finish the job for him.

"Still unpacking?" She pointed to a trunk.

"Haven't gotten around to doing them all lately," He replied in a grin. His mismatched eyes watched her come closer to the table, "Sienna, I'd like to introduce Bronn." He gestured to the man.

"My lady," Bronn nodded.

"Pleasure Bronn," Sienna returned the greeting. She took a seat as her uncle's squire, Podrick Payne, poured her a glass of wine.

"I had the joy of meeting Bronn in the Eyrie. He fought as my champion when Lysa Arryn imprisoned me."

"I'm glad my uncle had someone there willing to fight for him," Sienna noted, sipping her wine.

"I was just in the right place at the right time," Bronn explained in a shrug. "He was lucky too. He hadn't reeled in many takers with the little speech he gave."

_'Because he probably planned it for you,'_ Sienna guessed. "How _did_ you end up in a sky cell, Uncle?" She asked, reclining on the chair. "Something about Lady Catelyn taking you hostage?"

Tyrion went into a brief story about Lady Catelyn accusing him of trying to kill her son, a crippled boy, while he lied in a coma and Lysa tried pinning Jon Arryn's sudden death on him. He told her about Mord the Turnkey, the sky cell, the court room, and Lysa's insufferable little boy and his stupid doll. He said after Bronn won him his freedom, they ran into the Hill tribes of The Vale, and he took them to her grandfather's camp as warriors in the battle.

He asked Sienna about her trip in the Free Cities out of habit and curiosity. They spent a while talking over cups and books. She told them about a game of dice she won against a Tyroshi pirate, and these two twins she met in the Summer Isles. She recanted stories of fine wines, exotic beauties, gold and adventure. They sounded almost like the stories Tommen listened to at bedtime. She loved thinking more about a beautiful girl from Pentos than the boy from yesterday.

Night came on them when her uncle asked, "So, what _has_ brought you here, Sienna?"

"It's about Janos Slynt..." Sienna saw Tyrion already nodding his large head, his eyes full of comprehension, "You know then? About the boy in the street?"

"That and everything you said about your brother, and how some of the people are calling you 'Queen Sienna' and not 'Princess Sienna'."

She felt guilt in her stomach. Despite their truth, she wished she could take her words back. They are treasonous, and she's surprised her brother hasn't had her arrested yet. It is probably her mother's love that it keeping her from ending up like Ned Stark.

"I don't care what they're calling me," She told him, "All I know is, he needs to be punished for his crime. Not only do his men buy promotions from him, pay half their salaries to keep their jobs, but he was walking about King's Landing killing children. He told me it was under my brother's orders, which doesn't surprise me, but he...I just didn't understand...why? Why do those children bother him so much? Most of the bastards are children; I know some of them are older, because Jon Arryn told me when I asked him-"

"-You asked Jon Arryn about your father's bastard children?" Tryion tilted his head in disbelief.

"I did. It was a few years ago though. I visited this blacksmith in the city to repair my chest plate, and he had this young boy as his apprentice. He may have been my age at the time-or could've been younger, I couldn't tell, he was so tall-and he just...there was something about him. I didn't ask for his name or anything. I hardly spoke to him. Though, seeing him there, he reminded me of someone. He had thick black hair, blue eyes like mine, and was very well muscled. I had doubted it at first because I didn't really want to believe it, yet then I saw him hold a hammer."

"A hammer?" Bronn questioned. "You saw him hold a hammer? And that's what made it clear?"

"I thought of my father telling me about how he killed the Targaryen prince on The Trident. He had slammed his war hammer into his chest plate so hard the red rubies encrusted on the metal fell into the water. This apprentice hammered away at my chest plate-he had been chosen to fix it-and I saw it. I saw my father in him a moment. I knew then that this boy was related to me."

"What did you do?" Tyrion asked.

"Nothing. I paid the man for his service, and tipped the boy a little extra. Standing there, Uncle, I swear the boy could've been my brother." She sighed, "So, that's when I asked Jon if my father had any bastards living in King's Landing. He avoided it at first: changing the subject, telling me about something he had read in a scroll somewhere he thought I'd be interested in, telling me about his son and how well he's doing, though eventually I got it out of him. He said my father's bastards are all over the Seven Kingdoms, so the few in King's Landing aren't the only ones. He reassured me my father loved me, and saw me as his true child, and whatnot...though, I constantly pondered on the apprentice." She paused, "I hope they hadn't killed him too."

"Oh, Lord Slynt definitely made his rounds today. Plus, I don't necessarily trust the man either. Why don't you come by for supper this evening? I've invited Lord Slynt. Perhaps we can sit down and talk about his recent orders."

"I don't want to talk with him," Sienna said, "I want him to pay for his injustices." _'I want all of them to pay for their injustices'._

"I know," He said as if he read her thoughts, "And it will happen. Just not this moment. Someone like Janos Slynt-despite being a despicable person-needs to be treated with some hospitality and respect. We can't go barging into his chambers and arresting him. This matter needs to be handled delicately and quietly or otherwise your mother will find some way to intervene before anything has happened. So, my dear child, I suggest you stop by for supper. I'm having your favorite."

She sighed. She supposed it would have to do. "Alright. If you say so, Uncle." She rose up from her chair, "I'll come by."

"Good," He smiled. As she walked out the door, he called, "One more thing: Don't bring your handmaiden with you. I think it's best if it's handled between Bronn, myself, and you."

"Yes, Uncle," Sienna nodded.

* * *

Later that evening, Dyanne helped Sienna into a satin-lined dressed, decorated in swirling white floral patterns on a background of the deepest purple. Her hair fell in tumbles behind her, but Dyanne insisted on braiding two pieces and securing them with a hair pin in the back.

"Because your hair will get in your face, you will start complaining, and put it up in that ugly bun of yours," She said while placing the flower pin.

"It's not ugly. It's simple, and that's why everyone thinks it's ugly," Sienna replied.

Dyanne said nothing. She picked a small make-up brush from the table. When about to apply it on her cheeks, Sienna stopped her. "What are you doing?"

"Adding color to your cheeks, my lady," Dyanne said, making small swipes along Sienna's cheekbones, "So you do not have such a pale face in the dim lights in Lord Tyrion's chambers."

She was doing it again! Her face came near Sienna's as she dabbed lip balm on her lips. She shivered at the touch of her finger on her bottom lip.

"Something wrong, my lady?" Dyanne asked.

"Just cold in here," Sienna recovered. "Continue."

Dyanne smirked. She knew this game very well. All the light touches, all the flirtatious glances, and all the suggestive touches in bed told Sienna Dyanne may fancy her. Sienna hoped not. Yes, Dyanne was kind, gracious, gorgeous and intelligent, but her heart did not feel for her. She never felt nervous in her company nor pictured their relationship extending farther than the bed. She did occasionally consider Dyanne...but then Sansa clouded over her.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Dyanne smiled.

She saw herself in the mirror. She supposed she looked nice. The dress might be a little low-cut and the gold belt became a bit of a nuisance, but overall, Sienna was pleased.

"Thank you, Dyanne. That will be all," She began making her way to the door. Dyanne called out as expected.

"You do not wish me to come with you?" Dyanne asked.

"My uncle wishes for a more private audience," She answered. "You know, catching up on our lives and sharing old stories. He can be a very private man sometimes."

Dyanne touched Sienna's hand. Her fingers lightly traced the silver bracelet on her wrist, and her eyelashes batted at her. "I would like to hear these old stories of yours. I hear you have lived a very interesting life."

Sienna chuckled. She took her hand and patted it. "Perhaps later we can swap stories." She placed a kiss on the knuckles, "I promise."

"I will hold you to it." She wrapped her pinky finger around Sienna's, "Pinky promise?"

"You've been with Tommen," Sienna accused, giving a smile.

"He is a very charming boy. His good nature reminds me of yours."

She hid her blush. "I pinky promise," She linked her finger with Dyanne's, the girl suddenly pulling her closer.

She kissed her. Dyanne kissed her as if it were common. She pressed her lips right into Sienna's lightly before gradually massaging them open. She tasted different than what Sienna expected. A faint taste of cherries came into her mouth when Dyanne's tongue brushed into hers. A storm of thoughts rumbled in her mind as Dyanne's arms came around her neck. She should stop this. She has to stop this. Dyanne may be lovely and beautiful, but Sienna shouldn't trust her so easily, especially if her mother picked her.

Sienna pulled away from her a moment later, looking away awkwardly. "I'm...I'm sorry, Dyanne."

"Do not be, my lady," Dyanne said, taking her hand again. "I like it."

She likes it? Oh no. "I...I must go. My uncle is waiting for me."

"I will wait here for you," Dyanne says in a whisper, planting another brief kiss on her lips, "And then you can tell me all your stories."

Sienna thought about her all the way to the Tower of the Hand. Her cherry taste still hung in her mouth, the scent of peach -perfume caught on her clothes, and the memory of her almond-shaped eyes batting their long lashes at her didn't leave her mind at all. Sienna imagined if she remained in the room with her; completely forgot about her uncle and Janos Slynt. Dyanne certainly would've trapped her with her beauty. Would Dyanne have initiated it or waited for Sienna to make a move? What if she kisses her again and Sienna cannot break away from her? She pictured being in the same situation with Sansa. Though, she did not picture taking clear advantage of Sansa like Dyanne. She imagined going as fast or as slow as Sansa wished, if the girl wanted her. They'd share secret kisses in the dark, and glances across crowded rooms. They'd explore one another underneath her bed covers, relish in each other's warmth. Perhaps she'd wear Sansa's favor in the tournament; she'd crown her Queen of Love and Beauty for the whole world to see. They'd dance underneath the tent, sit next to each other at the feast, laugh and sing along to the bards of King's Landing. She wished so badly things were different.

Though, this will never happen. Her mother wouldn't allow such a scandal. Sansa is already in danger. If her mother discovered the secret, she may hurt or kill Sansa. Joffrey certainly wouldn't like that his betrothed prefers his sister over him. He'd rebuke them both in some cruel way. Sienna couldn't let that happen. Yes, she'd be able to take any punishment her brother gave, but Sansa? No. She couldn't bare Sansa taking blame or reprimand.

She entered her uncle's chambers and escorted to her seat by Podrick. The boy poured her some wine, though accidentally overfilling and spilling it on the tablecloth.

"I-I-I'm so sorry, my lady," He sputtered.

"It's fine, Payne. No harm was done," She grinned comfortingly at him. This smile made him-not only made him flush-but relax.

Her uncle wore his fine leathers and silks like always, and...Lord Janos Slynt sat across the table in his leather and chainmail. She kept all her glaring hidden, and smiled.

"My lady," Slynt said, "About yesterday afternoon...I hope we did not come to any misunderstandings?"

"Please, don't worry about it, Lord Slynt," She replied, "I had gone to my mother and she cleared the rest for me. I hope you'll forgive me for intervening. You were only doing your job and following your King's commands."

"I forgive you, my lady. We all can lose our heads when we're hot-tempered," She shuddered when his eyes fell to her breasts. She immediately noted to have this dress donated to a seamstress for scrap fabric.

"And my niece can be very hot-tempered," Tyrion said, as Podrick poured wine in the rest of the cups.

"Oh damnit it, boy!" Slynt scolded when Podrick spilled wine once again.

"Sorry, my lord," He mumbled, wiping the wine off with his sleeve.

"Leave us, Podrick," Tyrion said, taking the wine pitcher from him. "I believe we know how to pour our own wine."

Podrick wasn't even out of earshot when Slynt said, "That your new squire? I'd have found you a proper one." She saw the small look of humiliation Podrick attempted to hide as he made Sienna a plate.

"Myself? I prefer the improper ones," Her uncle replied, sitting back in his chair.

Podrick set her plate down in front of her. She smiled politely at him, making sure Slynt saw her give him the most approving expression, "Thank you, Podrick. That will be all."

Slynt tried ignoring this. He turned to her uncle again, sipping his wine. "Mmm, that's a good red. Dornish?"

"You know you wines, my lord," Tyrion complimented.

"That I do,' He grinned at Sienna. "I always know a good red when I taste one."

"I'm sure you do," Sienna said, taking a bite of her turkey.

"And a fine dinner, my lord," Slynt nodded.

"Call me Tyrion, please," Her uncle said. "I'm sure you're getting use to fine dinners now that you're a lord. Sienna, did you know your brother recently made Lord Slynt here Lord of Harrenhal? Quite a promotion."

"He did?" She tried sounding impressed. "Congratulations, Lord Slynt."

"Thank you, my lady. Harrenhal isn't much of a place, but I hope I can change it…like other things."

'_You pig,'_ Sienna scorned. She let her uncle continue.

"I heard there was some trouble in Littlefinger's brothel the other night?" He began.

"Oh yes, nasty business. Had to be done," Slynt said. Sienna watched him, pretending to listen leisurely. She studied his eyes shifting away from Tyrion for a second, his fingers fiddling around on the table, a nervous look coming over his face.

"Yes, of course. The City Watch must keep the peace. Only…I hadn't realized peace depended on the killing of babies."

Sienna had not heard this. She looked at her uncle. "Babies?"

"Yes, not just little baker's boys, but whore's infants as well," Tyrion clarified.

"Orders are orders," Slynt said sternly.

"Quite right. Especially if they are The Queen's orders."

Sienna stopped eating. Her stomach couldn't take all this talk.

"I never said they were The Queen's orders."

"Yes, well, who else would want to murder King Robert's bastards? She's always been a jealous woman," His eyes shifted towards Sienna, and then towards Slynt again.

"You know your sister better than I do."

"And you've heard the awful rumors about my brother and sister?"

"What rumors?" Sienna asked. She recalled something Elias said, but hadn't thought to tell her uncle about. She reckons she should have asked him. For now, he merely calmed her with a lift of his stubby finger.

"I don't listen to filth," Slynt said plainly.

"That is good of you, but you have heard them? I suppose people who do believe that filth consider Robert's bastards to be better claimers to the throne than Cersei's children."

"Joffrey is my King," He stared at Sienna in these words over a cup of wine, "The rest doesn't interest me."

"I appreciate your loyalty," Tyrion said. "Tell me, when you men slaughtered Ned Stark's men in that throne room, did you give the order?"

"I did and I would again. The man was a traitor. He tried to buy my loyalty."

"Fool," Sienna scoffed, "He had no idea you had already been bought."

"Are you two drunk?!" Slynt exclaimed. "I'll not have my honor questioned by an Imp and a girl!"

"We're not questioning your honor, Lord Janos," Tyrion said. "We're denying its existence."

This sent Slynt into a rage. His chair sailed a few inches behind him as he stood up. "You think I'll stand here and take this from you, dwarf?"

"'Dwarf'? Hmpf, you should've stopped at 'Imp'. And yes, you will stand here and take it from me, unless you'd rather take it from my friend here."

Bronn stepped out from behind a veil of curtains, smirking at Slynt. "I intend to serve as Hand of the King until my father returns from the war, and seeing as how you betrayed the last Hand of the King and clearly don't show respect to your betters-you have been gawking at my niece since she arrived, do not deny it-well, I just wouldn't feel safe with you lurking about."

"Who do you think you are, dwarf? My friends at court will not allow this. The Queen herself-"

"-The Queen Regent," Sienna interrupted, "And, as I told you in Flea Bottom, you're a fool to think she is your friend."

"We shall hear what Joffrey has to say about this. He already hates you for the trouble you've been causing," He said to Sienna.

"The feeling's mutual."

"And no, we shan't." Her uncle gave a slight nod to Bronn, who nodded in return. From the rear door, two city guards marched in and stood on one side of Slynt. From the entrance door, another pair closed in on the other side. "There's a ship leaving for Eastwatch-By-The-Sea tonight," He continued, "From there, I'm afraid it's a rather long walk to Castle Black. I hope you enjoy The Wall. I found it surprisingly beautiful in a brutal, horribly uncomfortable sort of way."

"The lads will escort you," Bronn told him. "The streets aren't safe at night, my lord."

"Yes, we wouldn't want any vengeful mothers running into you by chance with cleavers and rolling pins," Sienna said. "We'd want you to get to Eastwatch perfectly safe…because, you know, you deserve it so much, my lord."

"These men are under my command!" He looked to the guards, "I command you to arrest this cutthroat and this treasonous bitch!"

"His name is Bronn, actually," Sienna informed him, "And you shouldn't have said that."

"Boys…"

Two guards grabbed both Slynt's arms. Slynt tried breaking out of the grasp, and failed. The scene sadly reminded her of the baker's boy, how he struggled and could not escape. She gulped her wine.

"I have friends at court! Powerful friends! The King himself made me a lord!" And then he finally said, "I'll never bend the knee to a woman!"

The words sunk into her bones. She stared into her lap, but could feel her uncle's eyes on her. The trio sat in silence for several minutes; the embarrassment slowly crept under her skin each minute. "I didn't ask for that to happen..." She admitted finally. "I...I just wanted to ease their distress, if only for one night..."

"I know," Her uncle said.

"Nobody, no matter their birth, deserves to starve and die in the street like a dog."

"And that's why they love you," Bronn commented. "The people want somebody who's gonna do somethin' about this mess they got into, and they think that person is you."

"If you ever sought claim for the throne," Tyrion said, at last, "I don't know anyone who would disagree...except maybe your uncles, but they can be persuaded, I'm sure."

She sighed. It surprised her that Joffrey hadn't had her arrested yet or that her mother said nothing. Perhaps later. Sienna sometimes believed her brother and mother had the same mind; only one was crueler than the other. Though, she did wonder: Which one?


	10. Chapter 10: Before the Joust

"Sienna, wake up! Wake up! Wake up!"

She groaned as her body bucked off the bed in small jumps. She recognized the voice chiming into the air, along with the giggles. Somebody opened the curtains so rays of bright sunlight came right through the balcony opening. The new light stung her eyes in a white flash, making her turn her body over away from the sun. The past two days wrecked her body: She breezed through the archery contest, though her forearms ached the morning after; the melee bruised points in her body, even a well placed gash across her collarbone pinched. She sat in ice last night, she remembered. Her mother spent a fortune for this tourney; lords and ladies everywhere came for the festivities…well, the ones who weren't fighting. Hedge knights and sellswords, she heard, filled most of the lists this time. Only the joust was reserved for knights. She requested the smallfolk who attended received a ration of bread during the jousting today. Her mother said they wouldn't have enough, though when Sienna mentioned how many courses they were having on Joffrey's wedding day, she caved.

"Sienna! Get up; it's your name-day!" Tommen flopped onto his stomach, laying flat beside her with the biggest smile. "You're jousting today!"

She chuckled, "I know, Tommen."

"Tommen," Her mother's voice said, "Leave your sister. She needs to dress."

"But I want to talk to her about the jousting," Tommen whined.

"Out, Tommen," Even Sienna heard the warning in the Queen's voice.

"Go, we can talk at breakfast."

"Okay," He beamed. He pecked her cheek, muttered 'Happy Name-Day', and slipped off the bed and out of the room.

Sienna sat up in her bed. Purple and black bruises crossed her ribs, and she still had her melee injury wrapped in a bandage. She rubbed her eyes, and scratched the back of her head. She stared up at the blonde woman at the foot of her bed. Cersei maintained her doting smile until Tommen left the room; then the smile faded. Her fingers laced together as she cupped her hands, she noticed how the light caught in her mother's hair, so it gave her face a healthy glow. She supposed this effect made her less intimidating, though she knew better.

"If this is about the incident with the boy," Sienna said, swinging her legs over her bed "Isn't it a bit late to scold me?"

"What is the matter with you?" She snapped. "Trying to make Slynt disobey your brother's orders? Calling your brother an unfit king? Saying someone else should sit on the throne? And then letting the people call you 'Queen'-"

"-I was simply preventing a riot-"

"-And then you continue to just prance…what?" Sienna's words caught her off guard.

"When Janos Slynt sliced that boy's neck, this elderly preacher appeared-"

"-I know that-"

"Then you know he started talking about the injustices of the crown, calling Joffrey an evil bastard and you are whore," She saw her mother shift uncomfortably where she stood, "And I saw the people were getting angrier. They were agreeing with him. They crowded around him, and were listening. I figured the longer they listened, the angrier they will become, and begin rioting. They knew I was there, and so was Sansa with our guard, so imagine what would have happened: They're all steaming about the crown and they see the princess standing in the middle of the street with The King's precious betrothed and two men who are part of the order that killed the boy…they would've killed us. I simply stopped them."

"Then you fed them."

"To calm them down. You calm hungry people with food."

She bent down and splashed water on her face. This version is partly true: A riot might have happened under the right circumstances, and the people would have killed Sansa if they noticed her there. She gave the food to feed them, not to quiet them. Though, they hadn't. Joffrey would order the whole crowd executed for thinking ill of him, while Sienna eased their pain. Joffrey was incapable of the one thing all rulers needed (even if only a tiny smidge of): Empathy. The King is a stranger to empathy. His idea of empathy is cutting off your ears instead of your tongue; having you whipped instead of flogged in public. He didn't deserve the crown, but then again, she did not want the thing. She prayed whoever won the crown from Joffrey was a better ruler than him.

"And now they worship you!" Her mother remarked. "They call you The Queen. Some of them are saying you should sit on The Throne and not your brother. You have caused this new movement against him, and have done nothing to prevent anything else."

"Not to split hairs, Mother," Sienna wiped water from her face, "People already hated Joffrey. If you want the people to love him so badly or at least respect him, have him do something nice for them. You can ask him to stop the war, lower the taxes, and give them back their homes and jobs. You can stop forcing their sons to fight in his pointless combat. You can stop their children from starving and their livestock from dying."

"You make helping people sound like it can be done so easily. You need coin for that sort of thing."

"Oh, and we don't have coin for this tourney? We didn't have coin for Joffrey's name-day? We don't have money for his wedding?" Her mother remained stationary in her place. Sienna tugged off her shirt, and wrapped herself in a robe, "We have money for all these things, Mother; yet have nothing to give the people who live in our city?" Sienna leaned against a table when Dyanne came into the room. They greeted each other; she continued speaking while Dyanne picked out an outfit for her.

"The people in this city," Her mother grunted, "Are nothing more than little weeds tugging at the flowers in the garden. They take and take and take, but have given nothing back to us. The people you're feeding today are people who aren't even suffering as you so desired. I refused to have those low lives here today. The people on the sidelines are merchants, entertainers, and people who work for a living; people who earned the right to be here."

"So…"She paused, "You're telling me, the bread isn't making a difference?"

"No, it's not. I made it so. I'd rather someone who has done a hard day's work receives that bread rather than some stupid elderly man who sits down and expects things to be handed to him." Her eyes never left Sienna's glaring ones. "You advocate so hard for the people. You pretend like you understand them so much when in actuality you don't. You are a princess. You were born into nobility. You've had the finest education, clothes, food, and anything else you've begged me for. You've had things handed to you on a platter your whole life. I even got you a servant," She gestured to Dyanne. "You don't have to do simple things yourself because you have someone to do it for you. You don't understand suffering, my love. You don't understand what they go through, and you never will. Stop caring for people who don't care for you, and start helping the person who can do things for you."

"Joffrey?"

"Me," She said. "I am your mother after all. I do everything for you. I love you." Her mother stood there quietly. Sienna never heard her mother simply stop talking anymore. Her mother usually rambled, raged and ranted until her fire doused down. The fire in Cersei's emerald eyes was a fire she was used to seeing. Though, here in the bright sunlit morning, she seemed defeated. "It is true, what they say. You would make a great ruler…which is why when you are married your husband will be the luckiest man in the Seven Kingdoms. You're beautiful, intelligent, possibly a bit insightful, and graceful when you want to be...You will rule his castle well, and love his children with all your heart, just like I do."

"If my words bothered you both so much, why hasn't Joffrey killed me yet? Or at least relinquished some horrid punishment on me?" She asked.

"Because I told him a good King knows how to distribute his power well. It's better to punish the preacher who started the ruckus than the person who stopped a riot."

"What?' She turned from the dresser table littered with make-up products and hair-clips. Dyanne grabbed the hair brush, but Cersei motioned for her to hand it over.

"The guards with you that day told me about your old preacher. So, Joffrey had him found and punished for his insolence," She said, running the soft bristles through the tangled black curls.

Sienna thought her heart stopped. She wondered what treatment Joffrey posed on poor Elias, who would've been helpless against the strong palace guards. She expected trouble for her, not the man who spoke first.

"Joffrey had the man whipped until his back bled all over…and then Ser Payne took his tongue out with hot pinchers, so he can't speak ever again. I never heard a man scream so much in my life." Her voice sounded so unconcerned, so nonchalant about the sufferings of an elderly man, "He prayed to the Seven over and over. He begged for mercy, told the King he'd never speak ill again. He said he'd leave King's Landing if Joffrey liked. By the time he left, he was half conscious." She separated Sienna's hair into three strands, and then braided them together, "The Hound tossed him outside the gates, so we don't know what's become of him since then…"

Sienna did not reply. All she imagined was Elias, and how he is most likely dead.

"Sienna, don't you see, my love? All these proclamations and hand-outs to them only fuel the hatred of your brother more. And it not only effects him…it effects the rest of the family too. What would happen if the people did riot? Do you think they'd remember that Tommen and Myrcella are innocent children or the things you've done for them? No. When anger rises, blood boils and people forget who is who and what is what. They forget their place. They forget human decency, which none of them have in the first place. Please stop this foolishness of yours. I can only restrain your brother so long."

Cersei stood beside her daughter. Satisfaction came over her lovely face, ending down into a smile. She planted a kiss on top of Sienna's head, "Now, get dress and have breakfast. You have a big day ahead of you."

In a whisper of 'I love you', her mother left Dyanne and Sienna alone. Dyanne searched through dresses in the wardrobe, but she told her there was no need for a dress, her regular clothes would do. She bathed, dressed, and then headed down for breakfast. Throughout the meal, Tommen rambled names of knights Sienna might fight in the joust, Myrcella told her about wishing Ser Loras would compete again, while her mother reminisced for a moment about Sienna's first tournament. Sienna kept her focus on the joust. She'd have someone of equal stature; probably a squire or one of the hedge knights.

* * *

They all traveled down to the tourney grounds together in her mother's wheelhouse. They passed smallfolk in the street on their way there. It reminded her that if she wished of helping the poor, she'd have to do it herself, because her mother would find a way of tricking her. Most of the people she saw seemed well-dressed, fed decently, and in good shape. They looked nothing like the people she saw when she arrived. She supposed this was the sort of image her mother set for King's Landing: 'Our smallfolk are perfectly fine. Whatever nonsense Sienna has been spilling is completely untrue.' She grinded her teeth a little thinking about the lies her mother tells.

"Sienna, stop grinding your teeth," Her mother tapped her knee. "It's unbecoming of a lady…and plus, it's interrupting my thinking."

"Sissy," Myrcella said in a small voice, "Can you do me a favor, please?"

"What is it, Myrcella?" Sienna asked concerned.

"Don't get hurt today." Sienna felt a lop-sided smile come on her face. "I don't want you to get hurt or die."

"Oh," Sienna hugged her sister, "I'll try my best not to get hit, which is essentially the whole point of the joust anyways."

"She's going to unhorse them before they even have a chance!" Tommen cheered, "Won't you, Sienna?"

She laughed, pulling him into their hug, "Yes, I will. I'll make you all proud today. I bring honor to House Baratheon, I promise."

They smiled at her. She pecked kisses on their cheeks, and gave comforting words. The wheelhouse eventually halted. A guard escorted the family to the tourney grounds, and another took her over to the encampment. All around her she saw pitched up tents, horses being fed, watered or brushed, squires polishing armor, and blacksmiths repairing weapons for a group of competitors. A band of murmurs walked passed her on their way to the field for the entertainment portion of the tourney, and a food vendor made his rounds while women moved from tent to tent. She received the occasional birthday wish, a nod or a greeting, though overall, hardly anyone noticed the princess.

Her tent, decently sized and colored yellow and black, stood next to the Kingsguard tent. She waved at a few of the men, whom seemed surprised she was there. However, she didn't stop for explanation. They'd see her on the field. Walking inside, she had a table, chairs, a tall mirror and her armor.

Someone sat on his knees polishing the haunches of the armor who made her sigh annoyingly. "They picked you?"

Dravus fell back startled. He stared up at the princess, the worry and nerves coming into his face. "My lady! You're here!"

"Indeed I am," She said. "I thought you'd be with Ser Hugh today." Sienna picked a strawberry from the fruit bowl and bit into it.

"Oh no, not today. Ser Hugh sustained a wound during training, so he could not make it to the jousting tournament." He explained, twisting the cloth in his hands, "The Queen asked me to be your squire."

"Wonderful…"

"How…How-How is your-you-your nose, my lady?' He asked, looking at her face. "Ha-Has it healed well? I hope I broke no bones."

"Very well, thank you, Dravus, and no, you didn't. It was just a cut."

"Again, I apologize for my…my brashness."

"It's fine. You just need to learn control when you fight in a spar. You can injure your opponent, but not try and kill them."

"I understand, my lady. Ser Hugh doesn't really instruct in mental techniques for combat. He usually tells me to swing the sword around and see what happens," He said, not looking at Sienna. "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't bad mouth the man who-"

"-No, you're right. He should be helping you advance and succeed," Sienna told him. "Not stand there and laugh when you fail."

He grinned at her. She urged him back to his work. Sienna sat on the chair, resting her elbows on the table. Her nerves surged in her stomach and made it twist and turn; she felt her toes and hands going numb and growing restless every minute. She started second guessing herself when the flap of her tent opened.

"Look at you," Her uncle said, "The champion of House Baratheon shaking like a leaf."

"I'm not shaking," Sienna replied, taking a drink of wine. She played with the potent sweetness in her mouth for a minute, almost coughing.

"Oh!' Her uncle said dramatically, "And you're drinking wine before a joust? Who left that here? Dravus, be a good lad and get her some water…quickly."

"Yes, my lord." Dravus bowed to Tyrion, and scurried out of the room.

"Give me that," He took the wine and tossed the rest outside. "You know better than to be drinking now."

"It was the only thing in here and I was thirsty," She reasoned.

He sighed. Her uncle lifted himself into the chair opposite her and rested back. His eyes studied her in their usual fashion, "It's fine to be nervous about these things your first time. I personally shake like a leaf whenever I have to go into battle."

"You've only been in one battle."

"That's beside the point," He waved a hand. "There is something I wanted to discuss with you before anyone else comes in here."

"That's why you sent Dravus away."

"Partially. I need you to be careful in the field today," He ignored her grumbles and whines. "No, I _need _you to be. There are a lot of lords in that crowd who aren't happy about the idea of you possibly usurping your brother."

"I don't plan to usurp Joffrey!" She cried out. "Why is everyone so convinced I want the throne?! I don't want it! I never wanted it! They can have the ugly thing; I was never interested in it!" Her voice lowered when her uncle gestured a thumb towards the entrance of the tent. "My intentions that day were to help people; not stir a revolution or a rebellion. What is the harm in helping?"

"The harm is that your mother finds out," He answered. "Joffrey is furious with you, and your mother calmed him down…this worries me."

"Why?"

"She'd never do that. She'd never cap Joffrey's brutality and jealousy, especially if it can stamp out a potential threat to the throne."

Dravus reentered the tent clutching a fresh pitcher of water. By the droplets on his jerkin, he spilled some on the way over. "Your water, my lady."

"Thank you, Dravus. Put it on the table." She replied.

Tyrion urged her to drink. He poured her a cup, and gave it to her. The water instantly cleansed the irritable sweetness from her mouth, dousing it all down her throat. "Ugh, I'm never having sweetwine again."

"Good." He slipped down from the chair, "I'll go now, and leave you to your preparations." Tyrion pecked her cheek softly and walked out of the tent leaving her alone again.

* * *

"Not too tight, Dravus. I'll lose all circulation in my arm that way."

Dravus loosened the straps of her arm pieces. She flexed her fingers and shifted the weight in her armor. She thought the pieces would be heavier than her old armor, but Uncle Jamie made it in the exact same weight. The armor felt light enough that it wouldn't slow her down too much, though enough that it did have a weight and protect her. The chainmail proved the worst of it; she protected her skin from the metal through a shirt, so the chains didn't chafe or scratch. The armor strapped and tied on her, she thought she might toast in it like bread.

"I'll retrieve your lance, my lady," Dravus said.

He exited the tent in a dash. She slipped the tunic over her armor when a whiff of vanilla caught in the wind. Sansa.

"Sienna?" She stood in the entrance with her handmaiden, Shae, behind her.

"Sansa," Sienna grinned, "Please, come in."

Her eyes scanned over Sienna a moment. A woman in armor was something new to Sansa, and Sienna hoped it pleased her. Sansa donned a gorgeous gown made of satin and tulle, in flowing sashes and a crossing low-cut neckline. Usually, Sienna saw her in colors like pink or blue. Today, Sansa wore a pale yellow gown with the hems decorated in black flowers. She exchanged the Lannister lion normally around her neck for a flower-shaped ebony charm.

"Happy Name-Day," Sansa smiled, hugging her as much as she could.

"Thank you," Sienna thought her heart might go into her throat. "What brings you here?"

"I wanted to see you before the joust began is all. I wanted to see if you were alright..."

"I'm as alright as I can be given I'm going to be knocked off a horse today. I'm certain of it now. Yes...yes that's going to happen."

"Oh Sienna," Sansa implored, "You won't get unhorsed. You're too strong and too smart, so you'll probably see it coming before it happens."

"So then I'll be ready."

Sansa said nothing, though gave her an encouraging smile regardless.

"You don't wear The King's gift anymore," Sienna noted.

"I stopped liking it," She told her. "I preferred this one better."

"It's lovely."

She straightened up her armor for the millionth time in the mirror. The chest plate slacked on one side, though she could have Dravus retie the strings for her. She moved for her belt, but someone already held it for her. She and Sansa shared a smile, "Thank you." She buckled the belt onto her waist.

"You're welcome," She replied, "You look like a proper knight in this armor."

Sienna may have blushed. "My uncle Jamie had it made after my father's armor. Of course, it's smaller and lighter than his, and I'll probably only wear it once, but it…it looks good…doesn't it?" She spoke uncertainly.

In the long mirror, everything was in order. The yellow tunic bordered in black donned a black stag on the chest, matching the stag horns of her helmet and the pummel of her sword and lance. She pictured her father wearing this armor instead. Not the fat drunk who died after a boar gutted him, but the champion of House Baratheon who slew down hundreds of men in the Rebellion and proclaimed himself King of the Seven Kingdoms; the man who took down the Targaryen prince in a single blow; the man whom she wished could be here…who could see his daughter ride onto the field and unhorse her opponent.

"You're forgetting this,' Sansa said, handing her the helmet. "I'm sure your father would be proud of you…whether you win or lose today."

She gave her a half-smile, "I suppose he would. The old him would've cheered loudly and bragged about me…the dead him would be drunker than a Septon after mass."

"He was still proud of you, even if he was an old drunk." Sansa said, placing a hand on her arm, "I remember in Winterfell he had been watching my brother Robb spar with Joffrey. Joffrey complained about how our Master-at-Arms made them use wooden swords rather than real ones; they kept fighting each other, because boys always do that. When my father asked him out of their sons who would win, your father said it didn't matter to him. He said his Sienna could take them both of clutching wood or steel."

Sienna figured he'd say that. Her father remembered her talents when he was sober, exaggerated them when he was drunk, and forgot in the morning. "Our parents don't forget about us," Sansa said, "Even when we think they have or when we hate them. They'll always do something to remind us that they love us. He mentioned you often when he was in Winterfell. He said he wished you were there to see the buck he speared in the forest, so you can feast on it together. I think it made Joffrey jealous."

"It's not like Joffrey ever tried to be close to our father. He never showed interest in anything Father and I liked. He never hunted, he never fought, and he never jousted. He always stayed inside with our mother, hiding behind her skirts. Sort of like what he does now. He makes it sound like our father didn't love him. He never made an effort...neither of them made an effort."

She felt Sansa's hand smooth over hers. Tingles rippled down her spine at the soft touch. She wanted more. Though, she said nothing.

"Your father was like that with all your siblings, except you. I think it's because you look the most like him, and you were his first born."

"It could've been, or that wine, whores, and hunting sounded better to him than being a proper father," Sienna commented.

Sansa's eyes sent out pity and concern in their gaze. She lifted up a white cloth, embroidered along the borders were vines of flowers and her initials in a corner. Sienna felt her whole body numb seeing the same favor in her hands.

"I saw a few of the other knights wearing favors from ladies," Sansa said, folding the cloth to be tied, "And thought the princess should wear a favor."

"Am I to be your champion, Sansa? What would Joffrey say about that?"

Sansa said nothing. She stepped forward, lifting Sienna's arm slightly and beginning to bind the handkerchief around her bicep. Favors from random admirers at court might go on the lance, but a personal one (say from a lover or relative), were worn on the knight's body. Sienna never expected this. She may receive one from Myrcella or her mother so they could give her the full effect, but never one from Sansa. She watched the young girl tie a perfect knot snuggly on her arm, and then turn it around to display the band.

"For once," Sansa said, "I do not care what Joffrey says. I am not afraid of him when I have you."

Her heart burst from her chest. Sienna thought the whole world might collapse in one quick, surprised gasp. For once, she was glad she hadn't put on her gloves. Sansa's skin resembled the fabric of her dress, and she tasted the lip balm she wore. The whole world was forgotten. The noises outside, the people walking about near the tent flap and even the fact Dravus may reappear at any more. Everything became Sansa in this moment: Her faint vanilla scent became the wind and air, the sky morphed into her dazzling blue eyes and her red hair turned into a setting sun. Right then, all Sienna could feel was Sansa's lips on hers. Their bodies collided a brief minute, unable to touch through her cold metal and Sansa's perfect satin.

The world returned, and distress set into her stomach. A gasp collected in her chest, though never became audible. She thought she may throw up her breakfast truly this time. What could she say? How do you recover from this? Her pulse quickened, her palms sweated and her words began jumbling together in incoherent speech. The blue eyes she looked seeing widened, filling with shock and aversion, and then turning into anger. A sharp pain came across her face in Sansa's slap, and Sienna allowed it.

"How dare you!" Sansa cried, backing away from her.

"I…I…Sansa, I'm so…Please…"

"Is why you were so nice to me? This is why you cared about me and protected me? You were in love with me?"

"No..I mean yes...I mean, Sansa….I…I…I, knew you wou-wouldn't want me th-that way-" Sienna's mind scrambled. This is a mistake she can't backtrack, just like all the others. "Ple-please, understand me, Sansa. I couldn't….I wouldn't have…"

"This was all a trick wasn't it? The friendship, the protection, the nice words? Because you wanted me?" Her voice nearly cracked. "You thought I'd fall for you stupid games and let you bed me? You can't bed a woman if you are a woman. That's horrible and disgusting and wrong. No wonder you can't attract a husband. You're always kissing girls…I thought you were different. You stay away from me."

The words wounded her harder than any sword could. Sansa's eyes turned from sweet and loving, to cold and disgusted. Sienna tried reaching out for her, but the girl quickly vanished from the tent. She stood in the middle of the tent, tears drowning her eyes and her throat becoming dry. She lost everything in a simple, stupid motion. Regret and guilt rumbled in her brain. Why would she do that?! Sansa hates her now. Sansa thinks she's everyone else: Someone trying to use her as a pawn in their special game. Sienna wanted to run after her. She had no intention of hurting Sansa, ever in her lifetime. She asked the Gods why they cursed her.

"My lady, I have your lance. We should go to the field, if you are ready," Dravus's voice sounded miles away. "My lady? Is something wrong?"

Sienna sucked in air, so the tears remained at bay for the time being. "I can go on my own, Dravus…You-You go on ahead."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Because I understand if you're nervous. I'd be nervous to if I was up against The Hound."

"Just get out, Dravus."

"My lady-"

"-OUT!" She tossed the cup of water at him, and the boy fled.

The world crashed…and now she must pretend everything was fine.


	11. Chapter 11: Bonus Round

She spoke to no one. She stared at no one. She marched through the camp grounds towards the field in silence. Dravus truly went on ahead of her, so she walked alone. She hardly thought of the fight to come now. Sansa rushed into the front of her mind, and stayed there. Sienna couldn't close her eyes. Every time she blinked, she saw Sansa's face. She saw the anger in her voice, the hurt in her eyes. She felt the sting on her cheek, and stab in the heart. Her body moved onward, though she went elsewhere. Sienna picked a time where she restrained her instincts. They would've continued talking about their fathers, the joust and Sansa would've kissed her cheek in good luck, she hoped. Instead, she received the worst pain in the world.

Heartache.

"My lady..." Dravus approached her timidly. Her shield, a square bearing the Baratheon sigil, sat in his hands. "Are you alright?" She did not answer him. "If you wish to pull from the match, I can tell The King."

"No." She will face her opponent as planned.

"You don't seem fit for this at the moment."

She remembered Sansa telling her how her strength would keep her on the horse. She recollected the sweet vanilla scent. She normally disliked vanilla perfumes due to their strong musk making her cough, but not on Sansa. On her it seemed almost natural. Was that how winter smelled? Like vanilla? or like Sansa?

"My lady? Are you sure you should do this?" He asked.

"Give me my shield. Where's my horse?"

"Here," He slipped the shield on her arm, "And the horse is over here. They said your horse wasn't fit for joust matches, so they gave you a new one."

"No Majesty then?"

"What?"

"I won't be using my own horse?" She wasn't sure whether she should slap the stupidity out of him or strangle it instead.

"No. I'm afraid not. They say she's too small."

As if this the situation could not worsen. Majesty is a mustang, she is plenty big enough for this match. The new horse stood nearby the small joust field-a long space of dirt with a bar down the middle-dressed in black and yellow caparison. She couldn't tell flat out, though judging by her knowledge of jousting, the horse was likely a Charger. Riding an unfamiliar horse may throw her off balance. She was going to kill whoever suggested the idea.

She mounted her horse. On top of the large beast, she was above everyone else. A moment, she imagined riding all the way to The King and running him through with her blade. She wanted to hit someone. She wanted to hurt someone the way Sansa hurt her. Her eyes caught a glimpse of two people in the stands:

Dyanne sat with a few other handmaidens, dressed in the finest red and gold silks with a simple golden chain around her neck. She smiled brightly at Sienna, whose smile she must return. Dyanne looked heavenly in the sunlight. Men all around her chanced glances at her from their seats, and she noticed a flower in her lap (no doubt from a knight or competitor). Sienna imagined riding off with her back to the castle. She'd throw her on her bed, rip that pretty dress from her body and make love to her until she became anesthetized. She wouldn't care if anyone heard. She wouldn't care if Sansa found them. She just wanted someone...anyone...if only for a small moment.

Then she spotted Sansa. Shae sitting beside her, the handmaiden hadn't acknowledged the sour look on Sansa's face. She sat in the stands this time away from Joffrey, since the Queen had taken the seat this time. They exchanged glances. Sienna put all her apology into it. She hoped Sansa understood. She hoped Sansa would not tell.

Sansa looked away.

"Here, my lady," Dravus handed her the helmet. He watched her place it on firmly, "Good luck."

The horse trotted down onto her position of the field. Her entire body began registering this moment. She tried getting a tighter grip of the lance and her shield so the crowd couldn't see her shaking hands; she was glad the helmet covered her pale face. She heard her heart pounding in her ears, and everything zoning in on the opposite side of the field. The small spot where she spotted a beast of a man sitting astride a large black horse in dark armor. He held a shield bearing three large hounds and his helm came in the shape of a dog's head.

She couldn't see The Hound's eyes, but she knew they were set on her. They chose Sandor Clegane. They had picked Joffrey's lapdog as her challenger in the tourney. He was strong, hard and rough. He may have been unhorsed once, she remembered. She measured his lance. It was as big as hers, though not as thick. The shaft ended in a nice metal sharp glinting in the light. She felt the fear instill. Being unhorsed by The Hound would not be the cherry for her horrible day, but it'd be there somewhere.

Her brother called the beginning of the match, and Sienna kicked her stirrups. The large beast did not flow like Majesty. The charger bumped and bounced her around on the seat so much she held onto the reigns behind her shield. She pointed her lance directly into The Hound's chest. She needed the point to land there so he would fall. In order to protect himself, he'd use his shield. If her lance broke on contact, which it would, she'll be handed a second and a succeeding round will begin. If The Hound actually fell, she'd win the bonus round. Her eyes centered right on her target. Clegane came closer and closer. His black mount a raging beast charging down the line with him steady on top. His lance did not point at her chest. It pointed upward a tad.

_'Upward? You're supposed to point down!'_

_BAM!_

In the split second, Sandor lowered his lance and the butt slammed right into Sienna's left right shoulder. She howled at the pain shocking through her entire arm, her shoulder beating like a pulse. She tried moving it, but her shoulder hardly budged. Tears edged around her eyes, and she was glad nobody saw her face.

The crowd gasped. She reached the opposite end where men began reaching for her. She spotted Maester Pycelle bustling his way over, his iron chains clanging around his neck. They expected this. Her mother anticipated her injuries. They thought she'd go down in only one shot. No. She wouldn't. Sienna reared her horse away from the group and stood back in place. The voices below telling her she must stop muffled in her helmet. She slapped the hand trying to touch her. She stared at The Hound. He remained mounted as if he knew she wouldn't stop. Carefully, Sienna adjusted herself on her stead, waited for the call, and charged again.

_CRACK!_

The large point end slammed right between the space of her arm and side. Her armor-tied loosely on the left side-had opened in her ride down. The knots barely held together, and were soaked with blood. The sharp end of the lance cut right into her chainmail like a knife, and the hard hilt of the lance bumped off her ribs. She yelled in alarm as she felt herself falling onto the ground. Her broken ribs meshed with her dislocated shoulder; her helmet bounced off the ground in her impact, so a clang rung in her ears and nearly deafened her. The fall knocked wind from her lungs, causing her to pant in the stuffy helmet.

"Graahhh!" She flung the helmet off several feet from her.

She coughed. She could hardly breathe. Sienna gasped and gasped from air; she tried ignoring the sharpness each gulp brought in her left side. She lifted herself up onto uneasy knees. Her hand clutched her bleeding wounds. The warm stickiness on her fingers told her the lance cut in deeply. She was bleeding out in front of everyone. She will die this way. She gulped for more air. The world became a blur, though her eyes continued searching.

"Sansa..." She huffed.

She forgot the scene in the tent. She forgot Sansa's words. If she died this way-her own body turning in on itself-she wanted the last image to be Sansa.

"Sansa...Where..." She saw her standing behind the railing of the stands. Her face and dress were a blur, though the long trenches of russet hair gave her away.

_"Sienna! Look out!"_ A voice said off in Sansa's direction.

She turned slowly and saw a giant black mass coming her way. She side stepped The Hound's charge, her hand crashing onto the joust railing. Her hand clutched onto the bar for dear life. She winced in agony as she reached for the sword still hanging on her side. She needed to fight him. For some reason, this man was bent on killing her.

_"There are a lot of lords in that crowd who aren't happy about the idea of you possibly usurping your brother." _Tyrion's voice came into her head.

Who would hire The Hound? Sandor Clegane was not a sellsword. He wasn't known for unfairness or injustice, despite whatever they said about him and who he was related to. He was a knight of the Kingsguard, and bodyguard of...her brother. Her eyes glanced up at The King's general area. Joffrey's blonde head told her he remained for the match, but Myrcella, Tommen and her mother were gone. They abandoned her.

Her mother allowed him to kill her. This is her execution.

"Come on and fight me, girl!" Clegane bellowed. His sword thwacked the back of her thighs. She would've collapsed had the railing not been there.

She could not fight. Her lungs needed air; her chest rose and fell inside her plate, and her blood continued leaking. A logical person would have let the man kill her. A logical person would have yielded. A logical person...a pitiful person would have given into Joffrey's demands and become the submissive sister he desired.

Sienna was none of these things. In a small attempt, she swung her sword at Clegane. The point clinked against his armor. He stormed at her, and something inside her- Uncle Jamie's voice-told her: _'Riposte!'_

_"Mind your balance! He's too big for you. He is stronger than you are, believe it or not, so you must push back as much as he can until the blade slides, alright?! Hurry, riposte again! Again! Back up, Sissy, back up!" _The movements aggravated her hurts. The last time nearly cracked her shoulder; the pain sheered like fire.

"Kill her now, Dog!"

"SIENNA!"

"Look at me, girl," Clegane and her met one more time close together. She stared at him. His face was the only one clear as crystal. He was two men on one face. The right was a sharp cheek-boned man and a heavy brow, while twisted scars circled on his left eye. She spotted slick black flesh cracked with red lines that are wet. Her eyes traced the long red scars going up along the side of his face, destroying whatever follicles that could've grown hair on top of his head. His grey eyes burned a bloody fury. His voice growled at her like a dog's would, "I'm going to hit you and you're going to go down."

"No," She coughed out, feeling something pouring from her mouth.

"You'll do it, because I'm saving your life!"

In a quick instant, the world turned black and nothing hurt.

* * *

_She saw the dead flowers sprout up between cracks of frozen ground, and the old ruin around her. She figured the place may have been an old keep or a castle once years ago, but has since died in flames. Sienna noted the trees. All of them had faces of horror carved into the weirdwood bark, red sap dripping like blood from their eyes and matching leaves remaining still in the air. Their eyes haunted her. Where was she? What kind of castle has nothing but weirdwood trees? The eyes followed her as she walked onward._

_She saw her standing stark naked in the snow. Her face expressionless and dead eyes filled with a coldness she never had, Sansa remained speechless. She noticed, the closer she walked, there was something odd about her. She was not pale and purple for standing so long in the snow. Her skin was pink. It was pink like the skin of a pig before it's fried. Then she noticed crimson pools staining the white snow around Sansa. Sienna then saw it. Her bones poked out of her skin in places, her blood streamed out of her veins, and her skin was gone...she had been flayed. Sienna called out to her, but no words sounded. She continued calling and calling, but her voice only came in croaks and gasps. Sansa merely stood there, listening to Sienna's muted words. _

_Why couldn't she talk? Why couldn't she say anything? She felt her throat...and a finger sunk into the wound. The long wound across her neck...cut open by a flaying knife. _

The jolt instantly pained her ribs. A cold sweat came over her entire body so much she kicked off her covers, tossing her head side to side to fight off the haziness in her eyes. Her lips were parched; her gulps pained her throat, making her cough and thus irritating her ribs. She let out a groan. Her wounds went from twinges of sharpness to dullness. Her entire body screamed for the pain to end, yet nothing came for her.

Sansa returned to her mind again. Her flayed body in the snows of her ancestors. the godswood, and the cut...She touched her neck. Her throat felt normal. No, they had not cut her throat. Not yet, at least. She tried piecing what she remembered of the joust. She remembered Clegane's burned face, Sansa's scream, the crowd, Maester Pycelle and his jangling chains, the bloody strings of her armor, and the damn horse. She remembered her mother's absence, and Joffrey's little blonde head. His voice came into her ear as clear as rain.

_'Kill her now, Dog!'_

Of course, he couldn't give her a public execution. For one, the people truly admired her, so killing their idol on the steps of the Sept of Baelor would stir a riot or a revolution. Two, as far as the people knew, she did hardly anything considered treasonous. She said the words, though never acted upon them like Ned Stark. With Stark, clear evidence and witnesses proved he planned on overthrowing Joffrey. They could kill Ned Stark because he was not part of the royal family; merely The Hand of the King and Warden of the North. He could be replaced. A princess of the blood cannot be replaced unless her mother remarries.

_'And she never will,' _Sienna thought.

The best possible execution was this tourney. They'd let her have free reign. They'd make it all seem accidental. Everyone knows how head strong and hard-headed the princess may be, so hearing she refused to yield in a match would not surprise them. Sandor Clegane is the King's man. It means no matter what he did, he was protected by the King. Joffrey could say the murder happened in the heat of sport. He could say he lost control of his dog's leash. Her mother can say she hadn't been present when the event occurred; her brother and sister were taken away before they saw any real damage happen. Her mother will argue she was protecting them from the trauma of seeing their sister die so horribly. Her mother will tell everyone she never thought she'd lose Sienna in such a horrible way, especially when they burn her in the armor Jamie bought her.

Did Uncle Jamie even purchase that armor? Her mother knew she'd wear it because it resembles her father's, and she'd believe it was her mother respecting Jamie's wishes. A tear rolled down her temple. Her mother will sob at the funeral, she will weep in the presence of others, and she will mourn her first born forever. She'll never let anyone know she aided her son in killing his eldest sister. She said she loved Sienna. How many of her words that morning held true? Did she love Sienna unconditionally just as Sienna loved her? Did she defend her when people called her a 'fool', a 'hot-head' and a 'arrogant girl who likes playing at being a man'? Did she even object to Joffrey's idea of killing her in the joust or did she go along?

Was the joust her idea in the first place?

"Thank The Father!" She heard Maester Pycelle's voice cried, "You have finally returned to us."

"Water..." She rasped.

A hand lifted her head from the pillows, and another brought a cup to her lips. The hand felt smaller, softer than Pycelle's. She glanced up into Dyanne's eyes. They smiled at her in their normal fashion. She did not return it. She gulped every drop of water in the cup, asking for a second and downing that too. Hydrated enough, Dyanne rested her head back on the pillow.

"What happened, Maester?" She asked, seeing him hovered over a kit filled with bottles, bandages and other things.

"Clegane almost killed you in the joust," He said over his shoulder. "His lance broke your left ribs and cracked one on the side, as well as dislocating your shoulder. When you foolishly decided to continue fighting Clegane, your rib punctured a hole in your lung. We had to treat you inside the tent or otherwise you would have died."

"Where is he now? Dead or still following my brother around?"

"Clegane was indeed pardoned for his brashness. Your brother said it was all in the heat of the tourney, and Clegane could not be blamed. In my opinion, blood lust runs in families like The Hound's. A small drop in their mouths, and then they go for a kill."

"They certainly do...Ugh, my throat aggravates me!" The itchiness inside scratched at her throat, making her rub the skin up and down a few times, "What else happened? I developed a cold while I was out?!"

Maester Pycelle returned chuckling, holding a white bottle in his hand, "Oh no, no, my lady. Lord Tyrion, thankfully, reached you before I had. He told me one of your ribs punctured your lung. He told me a tube must go down your throat into your chest so the air would come out. I must tell you, even if I despise the little Imp, he truly cares for you."

_'Yes, he tried to warn me. He warned me and I would not listen.'_

"How long have I been out?"

"Almost a week. We've had to let your lung heal itself. Mercifully, when I looked at it properly, the rib had not sunk in too deep and no blood entered your lung. Drink this...Milk of the poppy, it will ease your pain, my lady."

She forced the bitter drink down her butchered throat. Coughing again, she clutched at her side. "Thank you, Maester."

"I am always here to serve you, my lady."

He bowed, and then left the room. Dyanne stood on the opposite side near the window. Her silhouette defined every curve in her body. Her dress was made of nothing but frill layers flowing around her body, and hanging from the base of her neck.

"Has anyone visited me?" She asked her, "Besides the maester?"

Dyanne turned around holding a bowl of freshly cut fruits. Her hips swayed slightly in her walk, reminded Sienna of a cat. "Lord Tyrion has come often. He asks me if anything has changed and how you are. The Princess Myrcella and the Prince Tommen stopped by with their septa a day ago, and Her Grace came by yesterday."

"You're telling me," Sienna started, "My mother has not been at my bedside?"

"No, my lady," Dyanne answered regrettably. "She has been busy with the kingdom. She said she felt horrible she could not come as often."

When Joffrey caught a fever, Cersei never left his side. She stayed and did anything he asked of her. She was there when he slept, and there when he woke up again. Sienna recalled being completely ignored by her mother. She was so concerned for her 'sweet boy', that Sienna's loss of her first tooth meant almost nothing.

Sienna wished she could say that was the first time their mother chose Joffrey over her. She ate in silence. Talking and thinking about her mother and brother made her feel worse. Her nightmare crept back into the forefront of her mind. Sansa. She was the worst part of the whole dream. Skinned and dead even when standing in the cold snow of that old ruin; those trees watching them and doing nothing but observing. Who cut her throat? Who flayed Sansa?

"Thank goodness," Her uncle's voice broke into her thoughts. Tyrion waddled over to her bed and climbed on top, "You're alive!" He threw his arms around her, planting a kiss on her cheek. Lord Tyrion sat down beside her, being offered food and wine by Dyanne, "I was worried you might end up leaving me alone with all these people."

"It will take more than a lance to the side to kill me," She replied. A flaying knife to the throat, for instance.

"The lance almost did kill you. Thank the Gods Maester Pycelle had been nearby or otherwise you'd be dead by now," He picked a slice of pear and bit into it. After chewing, he said, "You look ill..."

"I am ill, Uncle."

"No...Something is bothering you," He turned in his seat, "I can tell. What is it?"

"Nothing, just groggy from being asleep so long. Don't worry so much about me, Uncle." She wouldn't detail the dream for him. She'd spare him the image of bloody snow, silent trees and a skinned girl. She hated him always reading her like a book.

"I have to worry about you." He took her hand in his small ones, "What is it?"

"I said it was nothing."

"When you went out onto that field, you already looked upset and unfocused, and you look the same here. What is wrong? You can't afford to be like this; not now when the world is ready to-"

"Dyanne, leave us," Sienna ordered.

"My lady?"

"Get out. I wish to speak with my uncle alone."

Dyanne nodded, and exited as commanded. When she shut the door, Sienna spoke again in a softer, calmer tone: "My brother tried to have me killed, didn't he?"

Tyrion hesitated. His voice was not needed; his eyes told her everything. "Yes, he did. Somebody told him killing you would put an end to all this city rebellion nonsense; it could be prevented right now. They said you were secretly trying to steal the throne from him, but due to lack of evidence-"

"-He can't execute me."

"Precisely," He nodded.

"I don't see why that would stop him. Injustice never stopped Joffrey Baratheon before," She pointed out. "He loves seeing people hurt or dying...If it had been him out there...we really would have a new king."

"Oh I know," Tyrion said. "Two things stopped him: Your grandfather and your enemies."

"My grandfather? Tywin Lannister? How?" She hardly believed it.

" He said killing a princess without just cause would definitely stir up a rebellion; especially if it's a princess so many of the people admire. He said if they executed you publicly, in front of the people, it wouldn't set an example. That poor old man was the example. But, if the person had been you, the people would have rioted. They're just waiting for Joffrey to show his face or do something extremely drastic." Tyrion fully faced her, "And Sienna, my love, do you know what your uncle would love?"

"A shattered King's Landing," She answered.

"Yes. If he heard the people rose up against the crown themselves, killed The King and taken over the Red Keep, the Seven Kingdoms will turn into the grounds for a relay race; filled to the brim with battles and blood. King's Landing would be for the taking and all hell would break loose. My father wants to avoid that."

"Why is he so sure the people love me?" Sienna asked. "I only did them the one kindness in the street."

"People love heroes. You are a hero, whether you like it or not. You stood up to prejudice, you leveled with them, and understood them. You gave them hope when hope was lost, I should say. You're a princess. You are Robert's child. They believe nobody would have a problem with you taking the crown."

"What they don't know is a lot of people would," She added.

"Exactly. So, the only way they could get rid of you was if it looked accidental. They thought if you were drunk enough, you wouldn't be on your game, and it'd be easy for The Hound's lance to just slip right between you armor and puncture your throat."

"But he didn't hit my throat. He hit my side."

"Something tells me the royal lap dog is not as loyal and willing as he seems," Tyrion explained. "You'll have to go to him about that business...You only had a sip, but you still seemed off...What happened?"

Sienna couldn't bear to say it. The words clumped up and had difficulty coming out. "I...I...Sansa...She came into my tent and wrapped a favor on my arm to wear for her...I was her champion for the day...I was...I never meant to...It's just...She told me she felt safe with me, and I gave her strength, and I sometimes believe she gives it to me, Uncle. I would have never stood up if I didn't need to see her; I would never have had the strength to fight back if it wasn't for her, Uncle...I...I kissed her, and she slapped me...she told me I was disgusting and she...she...never wanted to see me again..." Tears stung her eyes.

"Nothing is ever worse than the stab of heartache, is it?" He kissed her head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "If I were you, I would talk to Sansa."

"She won't see me."

"I wouldn't be so certain. She asks about you quite often. I don't know why she wouldn't come see you, but she asked me about you last I saw her. She told me to wish you well. I think she regrets her words."

"As all proper ladies do."

"No...As all_ lovers_ do..." He pecked her head once again. "Now, I must go. I have arrangements to make."

"With who?"

"The Martells. I plan for your sister to marry their youngest son when she comes of age, but the plans aren't official until I reply to their answer. They might loathe us, but perhaps having a marriage alliance might give us their army and ships. We're going to need them...Stannis Baratheon is on the move."


	12. Chapter 12: Blood and Smoke

Sienna hardly saw anyone for the next few weeks as her ribs healed. She stayed confined in her chambers, eating and sleeping like a normal person. Every so often she pleasured Dyanne or Dyanne pleasured her, which the girl did not seem to mind. Her body moved through her routine in unreal pain that only a mix of sweetwine and milk of the poppy subdued for a few hours. She asked Dyanne to bring her books and scrolls from the library. Most of them detailed wars long forgotten, mapping battles and strategies. She asked for specific maps of the city so she may write down the entrance areas. She called in a small boy-one of Varys's spies-and asked him about the council meetings. He even retrieved a letter written by Lord Tywin after the Queen read it out loud, detailing news from their end.

She knew she should go outside. She should see Sansa, and explain everything to her. Dyanne suggested the garden or maybe visiting Lord Tyrion for some fresh air. Sienna wanted none of that. Her mind needed work. It helped her forget all the wrongs that have been done since she arrived home. Sweeping over old Baratheon strategies, she forgot the day her heart splintered in two. Her life was collapsing. Her mind mulled over the past if she did not focus on the present.

"Sienna," Dyanne called for her one day.

"Yes?" She did not stare up from the book labeled: 'Histories of the Southern World: Volume III'.

"Your sister is here."

Dyanne allowed in Myrcella. When Sienna gazed up, she saw the tears in her sister's eyes. She placed the book on the table and went to her. "Myrcella, what's wrong?"

"I'm leaving today…Remember?" She asked tearfully.

"Oh, that's right." She ordered Dyanne to bring Myrcella some water and something sweet. She sat her on the edge of her bed, "I'm so sorry I haven't been to see you. I knew you'd be upset about this change."

"I don't want to go to Dorne! I don't want to leave!"

"I know, Cella. Unfortunately, it's expected of us. It's the price we pay for being women. Our lives are never our own to live…We both knew one day you'd have to leave home."

"I don't want to leave home!" She cried. "I want to stay here with you, and Mother and Tommen. I don't even know the Martells."

"I know. I know you do, and we want you to stay here more than anything, but we need the Martells on our side," Sienna said, brushing hair from her face. "They have ships and armies bigger than ours, and if you're married to their son, they have to help us. Plus, they're Dornish, so it's in their nature to stick to promises…I mean, look at them, they hold grudges longer than I do."

Myrcella gave a small giggle. "But I don't even know this prince. What if he's mean to me? What if he doesn't like me?"

"I hear Prince Trystane is an absolute angel, and a very gentle soul. I doubt he'll be horrid to you. He'd be stupid to not like you. Look how gorgeous you're becoming; you take after Mother more and more every day. When you grow up, you'll be the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, and he'll be lucky to have you," Her mother's voice echoed in her ears now. "And you don't have just your beauty, you know. You're smart, strong, and incredibly kind. You're the whole package."

"And what if he's like Joffrey is to Sansa? What if he hits me like Father did to Mother?" Sienna marveled at her knowledge of these things. Someone so young shouldn't be surrounded by so much violence and cruelty.

"I'll make him wish he hadn't," Sienna assured her. Dyanne returned with a platter of goods for her, beside a pitcher of water. "Now," Sienna poured her water, "You stop all this crying. Dorne is not as bad as it sounds, honestly. I'm sure you'll love it there once you settle down, and get to know everyone. This is for the good of everyone here. This marriage is a key to helping us end this war, bringing Uncle Jamie home and everything back to the way it used to be…" She saw the expression on her sister's face, "It's horrible, I understand. We're just pawns in their game, sister. Remember that, and they can never hurt you."

After a few moments, Myrcella spoke: "Sienna?"

"Hm?"

"How come Mother hasn't married you to anyone?"

The question made her reluctant to answer. "She tells me she wants to find someone suitable for me, as she did for you. She wants me to marry someone worthy of a princess."

"Then she'll never find anyone…Nobody is worthy enough for someone like you."

Sienna smiled the first time in days. She kissed her sister's forehead, and the two of them began eating and talking. Honestly, sending Myrcella to Dorne is the best decision for her. If Stannis arrives and breaches the gate, he will show the family no mercy. Tommen and Joffrey will be run through with blades. Their mother, Myrcella and herself will be raped once or several times before given the same fate. If Myrcella is far away, they will never touch her. Though, Sienna kept this part quiet.

Then she arrived. Her mother entered her room in satins of red and gold. She smiled at the sight of her two children enjoying each other's company, talking of the wedding, boys from court, and Sienna's travels around the world. Sienna's smile faded in her mother's eyes. Everything flushed back in a single memory.

'_You betrayed me. You left me to die in that field. You let your son execute me. You never loved me.'_

Weeks of solitude gives a woman time to think. In the moment before she reached sleep, where she lied on her back breathing in enough not to irritate her healing ribs, that she replayed her memories. She recalled times where her mother pretended not noticing her whenever Joffrey began crying; times where Joffrey received no punishment for his wrongdoings but Sienna was made to muck out stocks or stay in her room, Joffrey could torment servants in her presence and she said nothing. If Sienna tried putting him in line with a stern talking or a whack on the ear, she was chastised; the same following Myrcella and Tommen. She surprised her mother still acknowledged her.

"Mother!" Myrcella beamed. "Sienna was just telling me about Planky Town in Dorne."

"Planky Town?" She sounded impressed. "Seems your sister has been everywhere."

"I only popped in there for a day. I wanted to see the sights before I came back home. It was when I brought you that ruby and gold necklace with that matching dress," Sienna told her.

"I remember. You also brought your father barrels of Dornish wine and he nearly drank himself to death," She added. She smiled at Myrcella, "My love, why don't you go finish packing? You have to leave soon." The reminder of her departing cleaned the smile from Myrcella's face. She kissed Sienna's cheek and walked out of the room.

Once the door closed, everything changed. Coldness came into the room that swept over Sienna, and stilled the air between her and her mother. Dyanne offered the Queen food and drink, which her mother politely took at her seat from the table. Sienna lifted herself up slowly from the bed towards the table. She felt her ribs radiating a heat that became suddenly unbearable. She ordered Dyanne for her sweetwine mixture, sitting uncomfortably under the observant gaze of her mother.

"You've been in here for a long time," Her mother said. "We haven't seen you out and about for weeks now. What have you been up to?"

"Letting my wounds heal. Reading. Doing things I normally do," She replied. She thanked Dyanne for the drink and drank eagerly. The mixture let a bitter taste in her mouth, though she grew used to it.

"You've never let broken bones stop you. I remembered when you were younger, you used to run and play even when you had a broken arm." Cersei leaned back in her seat, "You never let injuries get in your way. So, I ask again, what have you been doing?"

Sienna gestured on the table, "Reading. The evidence is right in front of you; feel free to browse, you might find something you like."

Her mother studied the titles, "Are we preparing for battle?"

"We will be soon enough. I want to be prepared."

"You act as if you'll be the one leading the army," Her mother smirked. "You know very well you'll be in the holdfast with me and Sansa. I told you after the joust, you would have no more of this men's business. You are not a man, if you have not noticed. I don't recall giving birth to a boy named Sienna." She could hear the frustration. "You have to start behaving like a real princess…Once your wounds have healed completely you will start having harp and culture lessons with me, and then languages, geography and literature with Septa Mora. We both know your mind definitely needs refreshing-"

"-I don't see why this even matters…"

"Pardon? You shouldn't mumble, darling. I hate it when you do that."

"I said…I don't see why this even matters. Why me learning any feminine qualities matters? Why me being like you matters? When you're just going to allow your son's dog to kill me."

She must have thought Sienna wouldn't say anything. She remained still in their gaze. For once, The Queen was unsure of how to respond. She began, "Sienna…"

"No. No, do not sit there and tell me that the whole plan was Joffrey's because he's too stupid. Yes, he may have told Clegane to finish me off, may have listed us together, but the whole jousting accident couldn't come from him."

"Are you suggesting I tried to have my own child killed?" Her mother asked affronted. "Why would I ever do such a thing to someone I love?"

"I have a few reasons. Let me start with the obvious: People like me more than Joffrey. It's a natural impulse to like me," She sipped more of her sweetwine, the drug in it making her head swim, "Because what kind of person loves someone who tortures people for fun? Who cuts off people's heads when it strikes his fancy? Nobody is bothering to teach him anything about diplomacy or war, so it's up to the rest of you, and look how that's turning out." She toasted, before gulping down the rest.

"That out of the way, the second: You're afraid I'll become Queen, and you'll lose all the power you have now. The only reason you anyone even still listens to you is because you're Queen Reagent. Once Joffrey becomes of age and marries Sansa, you'll be casted aside. Though if I take the crown, you'll be taken out of the equation completely; I'm sure I'll end up on the sidelines with you when Grandfather marries me off to one his stupid bannermen or some dumb lord. Dyanne…" The pain in her ribs vanished slowly. She simply enjoyed the drink. She watched the girl fill it up for her.

"You're drunk, darling," Her mother said. "You become more and more like your father every day."

"And that also bothers you, but let us remain on topic. Killing me makes certain that a rebellion doesn't happen within the walls of the city. You and everyone else believe the city views me as some kind of beacon of hope or idol or whatever. If there's a revolution, that means riots. Riots mean Stannis will have an easier time getting into the city.

You think if you kill me in a public execution, the people will revolt. They won't. They tried that in the street and they failed. Though they could get you in numbers; there are certainly a lot of them out there. I'm not that important. I'm sure they'd revolt if we killed Joffrey…oh no, wait that's called celebrating."

"Watch your tongue, Sienna," Cersei's voice dripped in caution. "We wouldn't want someone running off and telling the King about your thoughts, would we?"

"Somebody already did, so you can go yell at them for stealing your blackmail idea."

"Who?"

"I don't know...but I will find out." _'And when I find out, they'll pay for it.'_

"Sienna," She stood up, walking around the table towards her, "I loved you with all my heart. You are my first born, my first girl." She knelt down beside her, cupping her jaw, "Yes, you are not what I wanted. You aren't the perfect little princess I dreamed of having when I became Queen. You aren't the miniature me I asked The Gods for when I had you...but you can't be a Queen. You never will be Queen. Whether you like it or not, Joffrey is your king and you will respect and obey his wishes.

You're too much like Robert," She sighed, "You're brash, don't respect your elders, and rude to the wrong people. You like hunting, drinking, and fornication-oh don't think I believe you're a virgin-You explode at the smallest slights and have more arrogance than you know. You make horrible decisions you can never come back from, and always trust the wrong people. A good ruler can't have these things."

"When you say it like that, my dear mother," Sienna looked at her, "Then I sound _a lot_ like you."

Cersei's hand went sharply across Sienna's cheek. "He ruined you," She whispered, standing up from beside Sienna, "He _ruined_ you. You were the one thing that was mine, and he took it from me. I was glad when Jamie gave me Joffrey." A fire began blazing up inside Cersei's stomach, flashing out like wildfire in her green eyes, her voice full of malice. "Joffrey was this beautiful blonde baby, who'd be King one day. He loved me. He respected me. If he saw a bruise on my cheek, he'd ask me what happened, and when I told him his father had done it, he said he'd make him pay for hurting me. You merely accepted it; you never questioned him when you saw him slap me. In your eyes, Robert Baratheon was a hero, a champion, and a true warrior until the end of his days. If I hadn't pushed you out of my body myself, I would wonder if you were even mine."

She turned on her heel and stormed towards the door, "I should have poisoned the wine, instead of drugged it."

And that is how Cersei's fire completely burned out their love. Sienna beckoned Dyanne towards her. "My lady..." She began, "I am so sorry that-"

"-Please, don't pity me," Sienna told her, "She's always been like that. My mother lets her anger get the best of her." She carefully rose out of her chair, "I wish to wear something nice for my sister's departure. Also, I'll be wearing the just the dagger today."

"Why the dagger?" Dyanne asked. She then came in close and whispered, "You are not going to kill The Queen, are you?"

Sienna laughed and kissed her cheek, "Of course not. I like being prepared for surprises is all."

* * *

She admired Myrcella. Hours ago, tears streamed down her face about the biggest change in her life, yet there she faced it boldly. Sienna could tell she'd cry if they let her. She blinked several times, gulped down the lumps in her throat, and clutched tightly to her gown. Watching the boat sail away from the harbor towards the ship, her heart sank. Myrcella, her baby sister, was the only female in King's Landing she could tolerate for more than an hour. She never judged or scorned her. She smiled rather than sneered at her. Today, she was going to be with the people who loathe her mother's family the most: The Martells of Sunspear.

'_Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.'_ Thousands of years ago, Aegon Targaryen's dragons could not fight the guerilla warfare and dry deserts of Dorne, so he made them sovereign princes instead. They swore fealty to each king, though normally trading with The Free Cities more often than Westeros. They were resilient, isolated, and powerful. Their walls will keep Myrcella safe.

Watching her leave, and listening to the prayers of The High Septon blessing her voyage, she heard sniffling below her. Sienna stared down at Tommen.

"Tommen…" She said. Sienna bent down in her emerald and gold gown, taking a handkerchief from a pocket and wiping tears from his face, "Please don't cry."

"B-But, we won't see Myrcella anymore," He sobbed.

"Of course we will," She soothed. "Myrcella will live in Dorne, but I doubt that means she's out of our lives forever. I'm sure when the fighting's done we can visit her in Sunspear. I'll take you myself; you, me, Joffrey and Mother."

"You will?"

"I promise," She kissed the top of his head and hugged him. "No more crying," She rubbed his back.

"Pfft," He _had_ to speak. "Crying like a little baby…Princes don't cry."

Joffrey stood not too far away together with Sansa. Sienna kept her eyes off the red-haired girl the entire walk over to the port. She feared meeting whatever contempt Sansa held for her since her name-day. She spent weeks mending her broken heart. Standing in her company now, she felt the stitches she made slowly tearing apart. She couldn't shake the feeling Sansa watched her; trying to lock eyes with her for a moment.

"He's only a little boy," Sienna told him, letting Tommen cling to her skirt. "He isn't like you."

"Well, he should learn if he's to be King one day."

"He will, but that day is not today. Myrcella is our sister, and he's going to miss her. I don't know about you, but when somebody I love is leaving somewhere that I can't see them daily, I might cry or shed a tear or two," She snapped. Sienna couldn't believe his insensitivity.

"That's because you're a woman, even if you pretend otherwise," Joffrey scoffed.

"I saw you cry," Sansa accused.

He turned to her. Sienna saw a fire spark in his eyes a moment, identical to his mother. "What?"

"I mean," The boldness in Sansa's voice slipped away. She became the quivering little girl afraid of Joffrey, "My little brother cried when I left Winterfell."

"So?"

"So, it just seems like a natural thing."

"Well, is your brother a prince?"

"No."

"Then it doesn't matter. Princes don't cry."

'_Stop all that crying, boy! Princes don't cry like sissy little girls!' _Her father came into her head very briefly. Brandishing his horn of ale, bearded and tipsy on his chair, her father had been looking down at a small Joffrey who cried when he scraped his knee falling from a tree. Sienna remembered it like yesterday. Rather than comfort him, their father scolded him for his tears. Here he was today, doing the same.

Joffrey walked away from them all with The Hound and the Kingsguard behind him. She saw the resentful, angry fire still burning in him when he left. She thought on what her mother said. She knew her father was not a saint; he ignored Joffrey for her and her mother ignored her for Joffrey. She watched her mother passed by without a single glance, as well as the rest of her handmaidens. She made the mistake of looking across the way. Sansa's hair never failed to make her the blue in her eyes come out. In the bright sunlight over the harbor, in her pink and blue dress, Sienna was breathless. Her heart tore more and more staring at her. It was like watching a man burn to death: You are fascinated by the flames, but horrified by his screams.

Sansa may have said something. Her lips parted her voice about to project, but then an arm slipped around Sienna's. Dyanne steered Sienna down the road towards the gate. "She will only hurt you more," Dyanne whispered.

Sienna glimpsed over her shoulder at Sansa and her two handmaidens. She wanted to talk to her; to hear her voice and apologize for everything. She shouldn't have kissed her. She knows it's wrong. She knows The Father will judge her one day for it, but why should he? She only ever loved. A part of her was glad she did not give her heart to Sansa Stark. The other part wished she gave it all to her; even if she received no love in return, she would.

They began walking the Hook at the foot of Aegon's Hill. People remained utterly silent as they watched the various lords and ladies pass by them. Joffrey looked ahead; her mother looked ahead; Sansa, and the rest, looked ahead as if they walked an empty street. Sienna stared around the crowd. They parted a way for them, though she felt as if the whole world watched her. In their eyes, she could see hatred. She saw the bitterness from the deaths of their starving children left behind, the anger they have for a city watch that takes what they want and leaves nothing, and the hatred they have for the boy king. She sped up towards Tyrion a few feet ahead.

Then the shouting started. "Hail Joffrey! Hail to our king!"

"Seven blessings on you, Your Grace."

Joffrey ignored their calls. "Please, Your Grace, we're hungry!'

"I haven't eaten in days!"

"My child is dying! Please, Your Grace!"

This started up a symphony of shouts. The crowd shifted slightly. Sienna's body tensed up as it did in times like these.

"Do you see what I see?" She whispered down to her uncle.

"I do. Do you have a knife?"

"In my sleeve."

"Good." He turned to the men behind him guarding Tommen, "Get the Prince back to the Keep now."

"The girl should be our Queen! She ain't a bastard!" A man shouted above them.

"Hail Queen Sienna! The future Queen of The Seven Kingdoms!"

A woman came to Sienna's side; she tried to hide the flinch. She put a small flower in Sienna's hand, "May The Father and Mother bless you, Your Grace. Bless you. Bless you."

Sienna noticed her mother staring back, a livid glare on her face. Their words only strengthened her claims.

"Look at the brotherfucking whore!" Another said.

"The boy's a bastard! He shouldn't sit on the throne!"

People began beseeching for food. They pleaded with Joffrey. They cried out to him, called for him, begged for him, but he did not reply. He simply moved onward. Sienna spotted a woman, cradling a dead baby in her arms, sobbing and moaning in a corner. She quickly turned away. She tugged down the knife in her arm holster. She kept the hilt hidden from view, and the blade pressed against the underside of her forearm. Sienna hardly used this knife. She hoped she would not have to today. Killing all these hungry, innocent people would not be easy, though not exactly hard either.

The cow dung came out of nowhere. The large brown piece slammed right into the side of Joffrey's face, leaving a trail of pieces behind on his smooth skin and hair. Normally, she'd have laughed. Instead, the sight of unsheathed swords stirred the crowd into an instant frenzy. Her heart beat fast in her chest. She looked all over the street at the angry faces beginning to charge.

"Sienna, find Sansa!" Her uncle yelled at her.

She didn't need telling. A man smelling of ale and piss charged at her, his hands grabbing for the front of her dress; she fought his off with a swipe of her knife across his cheeks. Instantly, she reached for Dyanne's hand.

"Go with the guard!" She ordered a guard to take Dyanne, "I'm going to find Sansa!"

"I am sure the guard took her!" Dyanne shouted over the people.

Sienna rammed her knife into an assailant's stomach, and into another's neck. Blood splattered all over her hand, though the feeling felt natural to her now. Her ribs ached tortuously; she thought they might break anew in all this commotion and moving, but for the moment, she pushed that aside. Adrenaline pumped through her blood like doses of booze. She punctured the knife into the back of a raping a woman against a produce vendor. She pushed passed mobs of people throwing punches at city guards they overpowered, killing each other with make-shift weapons, stealing from vendors and shops, and raping women. Their blood lust and violence made Sienna almost invisible in their eyes.

"My lady!" A hooded figure called to her from an alleyway, flagging her down. When Sienna approached them, they touched her hand, "You must get out of this mob and go back to the Keep."

"I must find Lady Sansa. Sansa Stark? Have you seen her? Red hair and a pink dress?"

"She went downward. Somebody was following her. A man. I do not know who."

"Oh no." She patted the stranger's shoulder.

"Find the Stark girl and leave to The Keep. You mustn't die here in the street! Then it will all be for naught!"

Confused and unconcerned, Sienna left the stranger in their alley down the street. She ran in her dress, catching more attention than she'd like from two men who tackled her. One took a grasp of her arm, though failed in getting the other. She stuck the knife into his shoulder, which made him recoil. The other yelled, sending a clean punch across the face that she exchanged with a knife to the throat. Standing on her feet, she steadied her knees and kept moving.

Her eyes shifted constantly through the mob. She tried keeping her mind steady and breathing calm, but then thoughts of a dead Sansa came to mind. Her lying in a pool of blood, her eyes showing no life and her dress torn open by the rapists Sienna would murder for touching Sansa. She cut down a man coming at her, and then moved on. She spotted a young girl crying in a corner, screaming for her mother. Sienna picked the girl up, and put her in one of the closed shops, quickly telling her to come out only when it was safe.

"Thank you, Queen Sienna," She sniffled.

'_Fuck me. I'll lose my head for this,'_ She thought before shutting the shop's door.

She moved down the Hook more. A passageway into the Keep not too far away could take her and Sansa back safely, but she needed her first. Then a flash of red hair caught her eye for a second; she followed its direction hurriedly into the entrance of a shop's storage room. Unfortunately, her stomach lurched when she saw four men follow the dash inside. This encouraged her faster.

The riot's commotion muffled once she reached the inside of the small room. The stone floor covered in straw, the owners owned nothing but small bags of grain on a shelf, a hearth for the meat cooking, and various tools the man probably used. She heard the sound of Sansa's cries and whimpers mixing with grunts of anticipation and snickering. Her stomach churned more watching two men holding Sansa's legs, two holding her arms and one in between them unbuckling himself. Without thinking, Sienna charged at the man on top of Sansa. She stabbed her blade into the nape of his neck, twisting until bone cracked and then watching him fall to the ground.

"You little bitch!" One growled.

A second received several quick pounds of the knife into his stomach; she turned to a third in the jugular he began sputtering and gasping for air on the floor while the fourth escaped out the door. She stared down at Sansa. There was no time to stand for a once over.

"Come on, Sansa," She stuck out a hand to her.

Sansa took her hand immediately. Together they waded through the dispersing, thinning riot. No doubt it has spread to other places in King's Landing now that they trashed The Hook. Bodies of men, women and children littered the street, and someone started a fire spreading between two shops. The air smelled of feces, blood and smoke, irritating a cough that pressed her ribs. The two girls held onto one another as if they'd float away until they reached The Keep again.

"Sienna! Lady Stark!"

Her uncle came over to them as she sat Sansa down. Sienna knelt down in front of Sansa. Weeping, sweaty and bloody, Sansa stared at Sienna while the girl assessed her damage. Then suddenly, Sansa rung her arms around her neck, her head buried into her shoulder. She sobbed uncontrollably, her hands tightly gripping the back of Sienna's dress. The Hook washed out her scent, the men tore her dress and cut her cheek, but Sienna held her. Sienna wished she never let go. Unfortunately, Sansa slithered from her arms.

"Sansa's has a cut," Sansa's handmaidens escorted her away, "Have someone tend to it."

Tyrion came to her side. Sienna stared at him. He saw the weariness in her eyes. His eyes stared over her: Seeing the tears in her dress, the blood on her hands, and the sweat beaded along her brow. The dwarf brought her in her a hug. She felt his hand on her back, soothingly rubbing like a parent does for their child.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, releasing her from his grip.

She felt around her left ribs. Feeling under her gown and corset, she could not get a proper analysis of her damage, but later she would see how badly her ribs were ruined. Maester Pycelle told her they healed though advised against any strenuous activities. She relaxed herself by searching for others. Eventually, she shook her head.

"Where is Tommen?" She asked him. "Is he safe now? Dyanne? Where is she?"

"Tommen is safe in his chambers," He told her, "I have not seen Dyanne."

"I must go look for her," She made a motion to move, but someone stopped her.

Bronn stood in her way, a serious look playing over his face. "You can't go back out there, my lady. It ain't safe for you."

"I have to. Dyanne might be out there still," She tried pushing passed him, but he only steered her around.

"I'll see to it somebody finds your handmaiden. For right now, get the maester to see your ribs and that lip of yours."

She put the back of her hand to her lips. The man who hit her broke a part of her bottom lip. She felt the heat around the swelling building by touching it, and the blood came out onto her skin. Sienna worried about Dyanne. She wasn't like Sienna or Sansa. Nobody cared about some low-born handmaiden being raped or murdered in the street. If she wounded up with a bastard in her belly, they'd all simply shrug. A hand took her shoulder and turned her away from the door. Gingerly, she clutched onto her side as she made way for her bedchamber. She needed to be alone. She needed to think for a second.


	13. Chapter 13: A Sweet Spring

"Your stitches were reopened," Maester Pycelle told her, "But thankfully, your ribs are intact. They should be fully healed within a week or so."

Sienna smiled gratefully, "Thank you, Maester."

He bowed and walked out of the room. She carefully stood up from the bed, and made her way over to the table. The tight bandages stiffened her torso, the ends occasionally tugging on her skin and pinching, though she paid no mind. She toiled over the events of the morning.

The riot ended hours ago, they say, and most of the dead have been found. A majority of them are city watchmen, but there were smallfolk found amongst the bodies as well. Most of the wounded have been treated, and the dead are being laid for funerals. One of her Lannister cousins, Tyrek, has not been found. They discovered Lollys Stokeworth, a noble lady, wandering around naked in Sowbelly Row. They say she was raped half a hundred times behind a tanner's shop. Sienna went to see her, but only met her mother Tanda, who was grateful for Sienna's concern and thanked her with a nice dinner. The only person Sienna really worried for was Dyanne. She thanked the Gods when Bronn said he found her in an alleyway down in Flea Bottom. She hadn't been raped surprisingly, since she hid herself pretty well from the mob, but she had a few cuts and bruises. Sienna gave her the night off. They all needed the night off.

However, what really troubled Sienna were the stares. Everyone heard the people who shouted today. They knew about the bold ones who called for her reign and blessed her in the street. She recalled the little girl she saved addressing her by the title. Bronn said he personally washed off "Long Live the Queen" written in blood off a wall before anyone spotted. Her stomach churned uncomfortably as she sipped from her water glass. She'll lose her head now. They'll find a way to kill her for this. She personally believed Joffrey would damn the consequences and execute her regardless.

She'd never let them. They wouldn't make her bend so easily. She wouldn't run from him like other traitors have. She wasn't a prancing lion of Lannister like her siblings. She was a charging stag of Baratheon. She was Robert's daughter, his own blood. She carried the great sword Charger on her hip. She did not fear the boy king or his lapdog.

'_Let them come. I will wait.'_

Her door opened a crack. Sienna rose quickly from her chair, her hand reaching for the nearest object. She anticipated Clegane or Ser Meryn or palace guards coming for her arrest. Certainly, they would arrest her, wouldn't they? She tightly held the hilt of the letter opener. Foolishly, she wouldn't get far using the blunt blade, though suited far better than nothing.

However, the soft voice of Sansa Stark lowered it. She stared around the room first before timidly walking forward. Her hair fell down her shoulders in damp strands, though she wore her powder blue bed robe with slippers. The cut on her cheek played the imperfection on a masterpiece; small and slight, yet not taking away attention from the full picture. She ran a hand through her hair uneasily as she picked up a paper casually and stared at it.

"Oh, Lady Sansa," She said innocently, "I…I did not hear you come in. Wha-wha-what brings you here so late? I thought you might want to stay in your chambers considering what happened today. I hope you're alright."

"I am fine," Sienna knew she lied. "Thank you for asking. How are you? I heard from someone your ribs cracked again."

"They didn't crack. A few of my stitches tore open, but Maester Pycelle sews them back up." She could feel the small bump that indicated a re-stitched wound. "Your cut isn't too bad, I hope?"

Sansa touched it absentmindedly, "Oh no. It's not so bad. Shae says it'll heal fine on its own if I take care of it." An awkward silence floated between them before Sansa said, "I...I wanted to thank you for saving me today. You were very brave to stand up to those men."

Sienna chuckled. "You make me sound like I'm some kind of hero. I did what anyone would do."

"You are a hero. Nobody would have done what you did; they would've seen me and walked away or joined in," The thought made her skin crawl. She watched Sansa hug herself. "The world needs more people like you. Heroes instead of monsters."

"There's always going to be more monsters instead of heroes." _'That's why I fight. The monsters need to pay for their crimes. It's my duty as princess of this kingdom to see justice is served, because my idiot brother can't do his job properly.'_ "I protect who I can..."

"That's why they love you, I suspect." Sansa fiddled with her hands, staring down at them.

"They love me because I gave them food," She heard her mother's voice echoing in her head, though she ignored it.

"And you gave them hope. They probably believed they will always live under the rule of a tyrant. What you did in the street, when you said you'd punish Slynt for what he did to that boy, when you told them you knew they were suffering and wanted to help them, when you fed them and their families that day, I think, somewhere, they saw a real leader. They saw somebody who could lift their sorrows and showed them what a real ruler is like."

Sienna blushed, "Wow, I hadn't really seen it that way."

"Heroes never see it that way. In the stories, they're only doing the right thing. You always do the right thing. You always stand up for people, like you did when Joffrey picked on Tommen for crying."

"He's my baby brother."

"They're both your baby brothers."

"Tommen is only eight. Joffrey's sixteen. Tommen didn't fully understand like Joffrey did. Then again, it's not entirely Joffrey's fault." She continued for Sansa's bemused expression, "Our father once told him princes don't cry when he fell out of a tree. He always took everything our father said to heart. I think that's one of the reasons he hates me. Our father liked me more than him, but even towards the end, I stopped mattering to him."

Sansa's hands slipped into hers. They were supple, delicate and the same measure as hers. Sansa's thumb grazed the back of one hand tenderly, bringing herself in a few inches. Sienna caught the vanilla scent again. She was not sure if she should show affection in return or merely stand there. She will not scare Sansa a second time. She cannot stand her running out the door one more time; the first hadn't even faded.

"You inspire people," Sansa said. "You give them strength."

"To kill and rape each other, you mean."

"No, to fight back. Most of them would've never dreamed of fighting back, but they saw you, and they remembered what you did and what you said, and they wanted you; not Joffrey...and you didn't inspire just them...You inspired me too." She paused, and then said, "When those men attacked me, I tried fighting back. I hit one of them, but not hard very hard really; it's why he hit me...I don't know why I did it. I was so frightened and confused about everything because it happened so fast. Then...Then I thought of you."

"Me?" Sienna gulped.

"I thought of you at the tourney. I remembered how wounded you were, how you were becoming so weak and disoriented, but you still fought The Hound. You wouldn't go down unless he put you down," Sansa said, not looking right at her. "You stood up to him even when he could've killed you. You're always so brave."

"Not really. It's just me being stupid at the right time."

They smiled. Sienna then said, "Forgive me for what I did in the tent. I know I shouldn't have kissed you without your consent. It was wrong, and I am ashamed of it."

"I thought so too," Sansa whispered. "I thought The Father would punish me for what happened."

"Why you?"

"For liking it...At first, I was scared because I felt so confused. I had kissed girls before-but never romantically; only to see what kissing was like!-" She fretted quickly at the end, "And those times I didn't feel anything special. I felt awkward kissing. I kissed Joffrey once, and at the time that had been the greatest thing ever; the boy I admired so much kissing me and giving me a present as an apology. What could be better?

"And then we kissed. At the moment, I wasn't sure what to think. I've been told my whole life only a man and woman could be together. I had only ever seen men and women: my mother and father, your mother and father, Joffrey and I and other lords and ladies. Women and women seemed so unheard of me. My mother told me things like that were left for brothels or for the sick-minded. She told me lying with another woman was wrong and unnatural. I should've been ashamed of myself; I did feel ashamed. I liked kissing you, and didn't understand why. I thought about you all the time afterwards. I considered seeing you when you were unconscious, but I worried what would happen if I did. I believed I might kiss you again or cry because you looked in such a pitiful state. When you spent all those weeks in here, I worried something serious happened to you. I asked anyone who might know how you were doing. I listened for gossip even: Some said you were on your death bed, others said The Hound went back into your room that night and finished you off, and others said you already died but the Queen covered everything up.

"Today, I realized why I thought of you so often, and why my heart beats rapidly or my mind starts getting fuzzy or I get this warm feeling in my stomach. When you came into the storage room, I felt relieved. My hero had come to save me as I prayed for them to. I _prayed_ for you to rescue me. In the crowd, I felt safe because I knew you'd protect me; I knew you'd never let me go. Shae told me you did it because you're Sienna and it's what you do; my other handmaiden thought what you did was odd for a princess. I knew why you did it: You love me. Joffrey left me there in the crowd to save himself. You went back for me."

"Because I couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you," Sienna touched her face. "Look at Lady Lollys...Look at Tyrek...Look at all the people that were dead in The Hook. I pictured you being one of them, and it scared me."

"Joffrey is around me because it's expected. I'm his betrothed and he has to pretend like he cares. You stay with me because you do care. I've never had anyone here who cared for me as much as you." Sansa smiled, "You coming home is the best thing to happen to me..."

"I honestly am surprised you did not see this earlier. I don't go through the problem of getting Joffrey in trouble for just anyone, you know," Sienna smirked. They both laughed. "And at the tourney, when I was defeated and on the ground, I thought I was going to die. I've never been in a battle. I've never faced death. I usually end up in spars or maybe a tavern fight, but never anything that could kill me. So, one the jousting grounds, coughing, gasping for breath in my useless lungs, and my life's blood pouring out, I thought I might die. I thought Clegane would just kill me in a single blow. Before I'd let him do that, I wanted to see you. No questions, no second thoughts, just you. I could hardly see because my vision blurred so quickly, but when I found you, I felt I could die because I saw you. I heard your voice calling my name, and it gave me strength.

"You mean so much to me, Sansa. Nobody ever has before..." She blushed and chuckled, "Seven Hells, that sounded cliché, didn't it? Too much like the songs?"

Sansa laughed, "A bit, but I think that's why so many songs say it. It's the truth."

Sansa kissed her then. Her hands wrapped around the nape of Sienna's neck; Sienna's own rung around her waist. The feeling from their first came back harder and stronger than before. Sienna thanked every God she ever heard of for this moment. She thanked for them for creating Sansa. She thanked them for giving them wisdom, courage, and guidance into each other's arms. Sienna couldn't think of a better place than this embrace. Sansa melted all her worries like the beginning of spring after a harsh winter. The stag held the wolf even when they crashed onto the piles of pillows and covers. She couldn't recall a more blissful night than this: Where Sansa and her kissed, touched and explored each other. Sienna refused to push Sansa's boundaries; she respected this woman in her bed. However, when Sansa asked, Sienna obliged.

And this, my friends, is how the stag and the dove fell in love.


	14. Chapter 14: The Fury of the Stag

_The bloody snow…_

_The old burnt ruin…_

_Sansa's flayed body standing in the harshness…._

Sienna jolted away to the light scent of vanilla. Auburn hair tickled her face lightly, and a nude form rested encased in her arms. She looked over at the girl beside her. Sansa's skin hadn't been touched besides the small cut on her cheek; they were not in the dead cold of winter, but in the warmth of her bed at home. Her heart drummed inside her chest. She rested on her back and stared up at the ceiling, her body covered in a cold sweat.

She never thought she'd have the nightmare again, especially after the previous night. It ran through her mind as she wiped the sweat from her brow. What did that mean? Was it simply a bad dream or…an omen? She recalled a Wiseman in Pentos who claimed he saw the future in his dreams. He said it happens to all people from time to time, except they're usually unaware of the meaning or that it is an omen at all.

"Morning," She heard Sansa's voice say sleepily.

"Morning, my lady," Sienna said distractedly

She kissed Sansa timidly. Sansa assured her the previous night happened by giving a more confident kiss. Then, the smile left her face, "Something is wrong. Why are you so pale?"

"Bad dream," She replied. "It's nothing to worry about.'

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sansa cupped her cheek, brushing hair from her face, "It always makes me feel better after I have a terrible dream."

"No, no talking. Just…kiss me…please?"

They kissed again. Sienna's hands traveled along one side of Sansa, while Sansa's remained in their place. Memories of last night came to her in a flood. She rested her lover onto her back against the pillows. Touching her this way let Sienna know she was real. Feeling the warmth of Sansa's soft skin helped her see the dream had been that, a dream. She was merely worried about someone finding out about them. The dream generated from stress. She had to forget about it. She smiled when she heard Sansa giggle.

"What is it?" Sienna asked, nuzzling her nose playfully.

"I don't know…I just…" Sansa pecked her lips, "I feel so much better with you."

"So am I, my love. I want you to be mine," She said to Sansa. "Forever and ever."

"I already am."

Sienna trapped her in another kiss. Sansa enwrapped her with her arms and legs, kissing her as if it were their last. Sienna grazed Sansa's neck in kisses. A warm heat fell over the two underneath the sheets, as if the blanket acted as a barrier between their world and the real one. Sienna prayed they could always be like this.

"Stay here with me," Sienna said in their kisses. "Don't leave me just yet."

Sansa's response was a moan….

They spent most of the morning and many mornings from then on together. She instructed Dyanne that she won't be needed in the mornings. She lied about how she really did not need much help, so having Dyanne around felt like a waste of energy for the other chores Dyanne could be doing. In their bed robes, the girls drank, ate, and talked about everything under the sun. Sienna felt this Sansa is the one she'd find if she went to Winterfell. The Sansa who laughed freely, talked of songs and stories her mother told her, and marveled at her stories. She taught Sienna how to embroider a cloth properly. She taught her all the northern songs. Sienna thought the world could not be any brighter.

Outside her chamber, the two girls kept each other's company. Cersei seemed pleased enough because Sansa kept Sienna from the training yard. Sansa urged Sienna to obey her mother's commands: She wore dresses, she used her needle instead of her knife, she plucked harp strings rather than bow strings, and her feet adjusted to the hard heels of women's shoes rather than the soft soles of her boots. She read poetry with Sansa, drank and ate with Sansa, gossiped with Sansa and the other noble ladies, and did all the things her mother expected of her. Yet, she did not care about Cersei's pleasure. She cared about making Sansa happy.

They kept their kisses hidden behind screens and trees. Their smiles said more than laughter. Their hugs held a bigger meaning than friendship. Sadly, in times of war, my dearest friends, all good things perish in flames.

They spent most of the morning in her chambers and many mornings from then on. She instructed Dyanne that she won't be needed in the mornings. She lied about how she really did not need much help, so having Dyanne around felt like a waste of energy for the other chores Dyanne could be doing. In their bed robes, the girls drank, ate, and talked about everything under the sun. Sienna felt this Sansa is the one she'd find if she went to Winterfell. The Sansa who laughed freely, talked of songs and stories her mother told her, and marveled at her stories. She taught Sienna how to embroider a cloth properly. She taught her all the northern songs. Sienna thought the world could not be any brighter.

Outside her chamber, the two girls kept each other's company. Cersei seemed pleased enough because Sansa kept Sienna from the training yard. Sansa urged Sienna to obey her mother's commands: She wore dresses, she used her needle instead of her knife, she plucked harp strings rather than bow strings, and her feet adjusted to the hard heels of women's shoes rather than the soft soles of her boots. She read poetry with Sansa, drank and ate with Sansa, gossiped with Sansa and the other noble ladies, and did all the things her mother expected of her. Yet, she did not care about Cersei's pleasure. She cared about making Sansa happy.

They kept their kisses hidden behind screens and trees. Their smiles said more than laughter. Their hugs held a bigger meaning than friendship. Sadly, in times of war, my dearest friends, all good things perish in flames.

They both sat by the harbor together. The sea air combed through Sienna's hair like Sansa's delicate fingers, kissing her face lightly and filling her lungs with its salty scent. She slipped her own fingers in between Sansa's as they sat, though kept it well hidden from Dyanne and Shae's eyes nearby. The two girls watched the ships sailing out of the harbor to their destinations. They were all in various colors that told them where the ship hailed from. Sansa said she liked watching the ships because it soothed her. Sienna had no arguments with her.

"That one," Sansa pointed to a ship sailing out with a red sail, "Is going to Dorne. It's sending silk over there, and bringing back Dornish wines. However, it's not coming back."

"Why?"

"Because the captain is tired of risking his life to give the nobility of King's Landing wine they don't deserve. He'll go to Dorne, and wait out the winter there where he's warm," Sansa replied.

"That's sad…I like Dornish wine." The two of them grinned brightly at each other. Sienna searched for a ship, a smaller one sailing out with a blue sail in the wind. "That one there," She pointed, "Is coming from Pentos."

"Why Pentos?"

"Because that's where I'd take you if I could," Sienna smiled. "Yes, I would make an agreement with the captain that involves probably a few hundred gold dragons, some valuables, and a promise of free passage in and out of the bay if he snuck us both out in the dead of night."

"What would happen when we get there?"

"I'd take us to one of the Magistrates I happen to be on good terms with there," She said, "He'll house us for a while until I find us a suitable place with a good amount of servants. When I do, we can live there in secret the rest of our lives."

"What about children?" Sansa questioned, "Wouldn't you want any?"

"Of course. We'd have them any way you like: Have a man come spill one into you or find a child we could raise as our own. They could run around the large manse we'd have, play in the pools with the other children, love us as much as we love them, and grow up to love whoever they want and be whatever they like. Nobody would know we were there…all because of a little ship from Pentos."

"What about if somebody found us? Forced us to come back here?"

"They'd face my steel before I let them. I used to love it here once, though recently, it's beginning to wear me down."

"I hope I had nothing to do with it," Sansa smirked.

Sienna stared at her, "No, my love, not you. Never."

"My lady!"

She smelled his perfumes in the air before she saw him. Lord Varys came towards them in his silk robes, small slippers, and general air of shadiness. The Master of Whisperers was quite good at sneaking up on people, though he never did so for Sienna. He bowed to them both with his cunning smile. He hid something.

"Lord Varys," Sienna grinned, "Nice to see you here."

"And you both as well. Enjoying the ships again, I see," He spoke to Sansa, "I remember when she was young, Sienna used to come sit here and watch the ships sail off from the harbor. It was probably the most relaxing thing she was capable of."

"Still am capable of," Sienna said. "Now, what can I do for you, Lord Varys?"

"There is something I wished to speak to you in private about, my lady, it is highly urgent." She saw the seriousness in his eyes.

Sienna stared at Sansa, who nodded, "Myrcella's fitting starts soon. I'll go ahead of you."

They shared an understanding. "Tell her I'll be along shortly."

Once Sansa left their presence, Sienna stood up and both of them walked to the end of the pier. The cawing of the seagulls, the horns of the ships, the crashing waves on the rocks nearby drowned out the tones of their voices from Dyanne. Sienna stopped doing important things in front of her. She felt horrible lying to someone who had been so lovely, but she couldn't trust her, not when her mother was nearby.

"She's a spy, isn't she?" Sienna asked first. "My mother employed her to spy on me?"

"Yes and no," Varys answered. "Your mother purchased her as a true handmaiden at first, but has recently asked her for reports of your activities. She doesn't trust you anymore; not since the riot."

"Does she believe that was in some way my doing? Is she that paranoid now?"

"I believe she thinks you would gain many supporters were you to rise up against The Throne."

"I have no intention of rising against the throne."

"But, you might soon…"

"Why?"

"Sansa Stark will be going back to Winterfell shortly. My little birds have told me your uncle made a trade with Catelyn Stark; Jamie Lannister for Sansa and Arya Stark and her husband's bones," He answered.

"We don't have Arya Stark."

"That won't matter once they reach Winterfell. The Starks have more than just one traitor in their mist. Theon Greyjoy has recently taken over Winterfell, though I've had reports he's doing a poor job in keeping it. Robb Stark plans to have someone come and retake Winterfell from them…"

Sienna's dream flooded back to her. "Who?"

"Roose Bolton's bastard son…Ramsay Bolton…and you know what the Boltons specialize in, my lady…"

"Flaying…" No. Not Sansa. "They're going to kill Sansa when she reaches Winterfell…and then flay her…."

"Maybe not the flaying, but yes, that is the intended result. I've heard things about Ramsay. They say he likes to tortures his victims first: cut fingers, skin, noses, and other horrid things. He rapes the women, they say. He likes setting the dogs on them, like he's on some sort of hunt-"

"-I understand, Varys!" She did not need the image of Sansa, tortured and battered from all the torture, running wild through the cold forest as dogs snap at her ankles. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because there is a way to stop it from happening and I believe only you can do it."

"How? Tell me."

"There is no official plan, yet, since my contacts have not sent messages in a few days. Though, I will tell you this, my gracious lady…There will be a time where you must decide whether you want to serve the realm or your family…

They stared at each other. Sienna took everything the spider said carefully. She could never fully believe or trust anyone. How could he possibly know all of that? Yes, he had spies, but how many? So many he even has infiltrators in the northern army? Why would her uncle send Sansa into a trap like that? Unless, it is not her uncle who is setting the trap. She felt something simmer inside her.

"There is something else."

"Yes?"

"Your mother knows of your…relationship with the Lady Sansa," He replied. "She has sent Lancel Lannister to your chambers to collect you."

"Only Lancel?"

"Yes."

That was like sending a pup into the wolves den. "Do you know what she has planned for me?"

"Sadly, I do not."

"Would it be too much to keep me informed on updates?" She asked him. "For Sansa's sake?"

He smiled, "Never, my lady. If I hear from my contact, I shall tell you right away."

"Thank you, Lord Varys," She said.

"Anything for the realm, my lady."

He bowed to her, and shuffled out of her sight. She saw Dyanne standing closer than before, her dress lightly blowing in the wind and her hair tied in the usual braid. She should have known better. Her mother knows because of the little foreign whore yards away. She must have found out about them in other ways. She wanted to strangle her, stab her, or throw her into the sea. She felt her rage boiling in her stomach now. It clinched when she saw Dyanne smile at her.

"Lord Varys seems to be an important man," Dyanne said as she began flanking behind her.

"Yes, he is."

"They say he has lots of spies everywhere in the city."

"It is a common rumor he is associated with."

They both sat in her litter in silence. Sienna felt her entire body on alert. Her hands clutched the fabric of her dress because they shook violently. Her stomach stewed in her gut, her breathing could hardly be contained, and her brain jumbled everywhere. How could she approach this? She had no plan. She needed a plan. Surely, killing Lancel solved nothing since he was close to her mother. Running would not work because then who would take care of Sansa? She ran a hand through her hair. She breathed calmly.

"Is there something wrong, my lady?" Dyanne asked as they reached The Red Keep. "You seem tense."

"Do I?" Sienna snapped. She stormed ahead of her to her fate.

"You do. Please," She lightly touched her shoulder to stop her, "Tell me what is wrong…perhaps I could make you feel better? I don't like seeing you unhappy."

She understood. Sienna saw the affection in Dyanne's eyes, feeling it in her fingers. She recoiled from her hand, "What is wrong? You told my mother and Sansa and I."

Dyanne stiffened. 'I…My lady….She made me tell her, I swear!"

"No, she paid you," She spotted the golden necklace around Dyanne's neck. The prancing lion fueled her fury. Sienna ripped the chain from her neck, "You sold my secrets for an ugly necklace?! What else did they buy you with? Gold? Freedom? What?"

"I…I just thought if Sansa were gone, you'd want me again as you did before. Remember? When you and I used to spend all our nights together? When I was special to you?" She tried to bring Sienna close, but she only received a slap.

"You were only ever a friend to me, and nothing more. You knew my heart was for Sansa, not you. I loved you as a friend loves a friend. I confided in you. I let you into my room when I allowed no one else to see me, because I began to trust you. You never judged me. You never scolded or glared whenever I asked you to accompany me to the training yard. You praised me. I hardly received praise from anyone. I trusted you with my biggest secret because I hoped you weren't hers. You were!" She hit her again. "Get out of my sight! NOW!"

Her heart broke seeing Dyanne scurry away in tears. Her entire world began a sinking ship. She felt herself on the verge of tears. Everything seemed so unreal. She wanted to wake up before anything happened. She wanted to escape this nightmare. She wanted Sansa's loving arms. She wanted the comfort of a sword on her hip. She wanted her father's bear hugs; Stannis's approving nods, and Renly's playful japes. She wanted Myrcella's concern and Tommen's enthusiasm. She wanted her uncle Tyrion's clever words and plans, as well as her Uncle Jamie's smile.

Instead, she saw Lancel Lannister in her chamber. Her mother's cousin stood in the center with two guards. Blonde and green eyed like her mother, Sienna had the urge to attack him. He was a Lannister, and she was beginning to hate Lannisters.

"Your lady mother requests your audience in her chambers," Lancel said.

"My mother sends you and two guards to bring me to her?" Sienna asked him, her hand resting on her hip habitably.

"She said you might not be so willing if I only came…Now, come," He brought a hand. When Sienna seemed reluctant, he said, "You must come with me now. It's the Queen's command."

'_I'm starting to hate The Queen.'_

Seeing the two guards shift slightly in their places, she agreed to follow them. She inhaled her courage. She said nothing as she walked down the halls in the eyes of passersby. Her mind thought about the plans ahead. She needed one. Sienna recalled battle plans, strategies her father taught her or the ones she read in books. They did not have ones for battles like this. No, she'd have to play this one carefully with a woman like her mother.

They reached her mother's chambers. Her entire body tensed. Dyanne sat right beside her mother, sobbing harshly into a handkerchief. She hunched over the cloth with her face buried in it while her mother patted her back comfortingly. Dyanne might not have caught the deceit in her mother's eyes, but Sienna saw it right away. She should have known. She should have known!

"Sienna, come in here," Her mother said sternly. She ordered Lancel and the others out and spoke once they were alone. "You should be ashamed of yourself, you disgusting little creature."

Sienna crushed under her words, though kept silent. Her eyes stayed on the weeping handmaiden.

"She is your brother's betrothed; your future sister-in-law. She is a woman! And you lie with her as if you were husband and wife so quickly and easily," She snorted in disgust. "I can't say I didn't know…I always knew, especially when I saw you kissing one of my handmaidens years ago. I thought it was just experimentation. I did it when I was young. I thought you would stop once we presented you to a husband or simply grow out of it. You didn't…I know about your whores in Lys and your little treats in Littlefinger's brothel…Now, I know about your little dove."

"You…" Her blood boiled. "You whore!" She reached out for Dyanne, but two guards restrained her.

"You have no right to yell at her," Her mother scolded.

"I should have known she was yours when you told me she'd be my handmaiden," Sienna gritted. "I should have known you'd plant someone to spy on me."

Her mother grinned, "As paranoid as your father…Dyanne wasn't a spy. I brought her to you as a sincere companion. I thought if you had a close female friend, you'd stop all this male nonsense, which you have not I've heard. I mean, look at you. You walk, talk, sit, stand, and do everything your father used to do regardless of what you're wearing. You're just like him…before the drinking began, of course. It turns out I was correct. Just like him…plucking flowers and then tossing them away when you're done with them," She patted Dyanne's hand. "Dyanne would've been good to you. I wouldn't have minded had you chosen her, honestly. But Sansa…well…I never thought she liked that sort of thing…Joffrey will change her mind."

She smiled when she saw the words hit Sienna. Cersei loved seeing her helpless. Seeing this dark-haired, strong-jawed girl in her men's clothes, who could be a precious beauty if she wanted, no longer strong like the sigil of her father. The Queen admitted, she saw Robert in her. She saw his laughter, his voice, and his strength...and now...she saw the fury...

It was quiet. She did not throw things around the room or threaten her. Sienna simply stood there in her spot. The fury burned in her blue eyes. She gripped the sides of her dress tightly. Cersei was honestly lucky she had nothing on her; that the guards in the room appeared to be on their toes now.

"You..." Sienna said, "Will pay for this. I will make sure you do...I don't care if you're The Queen, The Queen Reagent, a Lannister or whatever titles you like to claim...I will make you pay if anything happens to her."

"You're actually quite pretty when you're angry," Cersei said, sipping her wine glass. "I hope Roose Bolton feels the same when he comes to collect you."

"What?" She cocked her head to the side.

"Your grandfather made arrangements with the Boltons in secret. You're going to marry Roose Bolton...or his bastard, we're not sure yet. Lord Frey keeps pushing him to marry one of his daughters, though I'm sure once he sees how lovely you are, he'll take up our offer." Her smile boded so much. "You will go with him to the North once Robb Stark is dealt with and live with him in his castle like you were made to do...and I shall tell you, he doesn't appreciate defiance. He won't take your tantrums like the rest of us have for so long. Your grandfather _knows_ that man will put you in your place."

_'No...this cannot be happening. Roose Bolton? That slimy, dark-haired snake with his stupid flaying knife. No. I refuse this.' _She felt an anger boiling in her stomach. She did not know what was where anymore. The entire world turned on its head in an instant. They dumped everything on her in one swoop, and she did not even have time to fully plan. She needed time to plan this out. First Varys with his warning words, and then this. And if mother knows, then Joffrey knows. And if Joffrey knows, he'll hurt Sansa.

_'I need to get out of here. She'll send me to the throne room once she's done with me, so I can see whatever Joffrey has planned for Sansa. She's worse than he is...just less obvious about it.'_

"I'm not going," Sienna said.

"Too bad, you have to. You are a princess, in case you forgot, so you do as you are told. If your uncle is allowed to sell your sister away like a golden cow, and I'm forced to be shipped off to your father like a common whore, then YOU will suffer it at well!"

"You can't make me!" Sienna picked up the butter knife and drew it, "I'm not going!"

"Enough!" She shot up from her seat and rounded the desk towards her. The wildfire in Cersei's eyes lit ablaze. If the fire in these women were real, it'd burn the entire Keep down. "I've had enough of this! I'm done being good to you! I tried so hard to make you see what you really are!"

"I know what I am!" Sienna bellowed. "I am a Baratheon! A stag of Storm's End and a lady of the Stormlands! Daughter of Robert Baratheon, last king of Westeros...and daughter, to the whore who beds her brother..."

The last words did it. Cersei's hand collided with Sienna's cheek in a quick flash. The wildfire in her mother's eyes burned brightly, her rage becoming absolutely apparent. Anger did not soil her mother's beauty. It enhanced everything. Sienna grunted, holding her stinging cheek.

"You have no respect for anyone, do you? You think because you're the princess you can stomp over whoever you want, and do as you please? You think this little rebellion is going to save you? No, it's not. Not anymore. I convinced your brother once to let you live because it'll bring chaos into the city, which we don't need right now! Stannis is coming in a few days, and I cannot have the people running around calling out for a new ruler when we have a siege to prepare for! You will not be Queen. You will never be Queen. I am the Queen, and will always be the Queen. I have the power and you don't, and you never will...Bolton will teach you a thing or two with that knife of his, and when you return, you will be the dutiful daughter I wanted you to be! Like me! Not that drunken pig!" She slapped her other cheek. Cersei looked to her guards, "Take her to the throne room! Joffrey will want to see her...and I'm sure Sansa does as well...It's a shame...You could've been so much more than this."

"I will be."

"We'll see about that."

Guards took her by her arms, and she glanced at Dyanne. Her brow eyes were puffy from her tears, and she wiped the water from her face. Sienna said nothing to her. She stared at her, scorched her in the fire. She'll most likely be sent home or be tossed aside now that her duty has been fulfilled. Sienna's duty wasn't finished yet.

All these traitors will die for their crimes. The Lannisters will go down the same as the Targaryens did long ago. All their heads will line the walls of the Red Keep. They will know what it means to provoke a stag. Sienna will teach them how hot fury can burn.


	15. Chapter 15: The Black Cell

All the loyal nobles packed the throne room. The Targaryen dragon skulls stared down unsympathetically at the crowds of lords and ladies as they gazed on appalled by the scene before them. The Kingsguard stood all along the foot of the throne in their shiny gold armor and spotless white cloaks; the small council in the shadows behind the Iron Throne, made of the swords of Aegon the Conqueror's enemies forged in dragon fire; her brother, King Joffrey, sitting with his golden crown and his stupid crossbow in his lap. His eyes danced in a wild excitement, and he seemed almost unable to control his smug smile. She instantly wanted to wipe it off.

Shrieks of pain and pleas for mercy reached her ears the moment the doors opened. Her entire body dove into action. She struggled hard against the guards restraining her, her eyes searching wildly for the source of the cries, and her heart thumping in her chest. She could barely breathe in the spacious room; she felt hot underneath the eyes of the distasted nobles of King's Landing. Shock stung her when she saw what they were all watching.

"Sansa!" She bellowed out.

"Sienna!"

She lied tied to a whipping board he brought in from the dungeons. The leather bands tightly wrapped around her wrists and ankles, Sansa's entire back was exposed to the audience. Ribbons of red lashed in single strokes. The bled into the dark fabric of her dress and matted loose strands of hair to the very top of her back. A new one was produced each time Ser Ilyn cracked his whip, and her screams fell in time with them. Sienna saw the blotchy redness on Sansa's face, her bloodshot eyes and drying lips. She saw her entire chest shake in her sobs. Sansa's fingers fiddled around as if she stretched to reach her, though becoming hopeless at once. Sienna kicked and thrashed about as she was brought beside the whipping board.

"Dear sister," Joffrey beamed, "So glad you could join us. I was just showing Lady Sansa here what happens to women who lie with women." He gave a gesture and Ser Ilyn ceased his lashing.

"You bastard!" Sienna spat. "Let her go! She has done nothing wrong!"

"She's as wrong as you, you repulsive thing! You will both see now what happens when you cross the king!"

"Brother, please! I beg of you! Have mercy on her. Punish me! Put me on the board, not Sansa! She doesn't deserve this. She is innocent! Please, Joffrey!"

Her begging only made him grin. "She was just as consenting as you. According to Maester Pycelle, the punishment I'm giving her is nothing in comparison to what the old order of Faith Militants would've done with her. A woman lying with another is a sin by the laws of the Seven-"

"-Oh since when do you care about religion?" Sienna asked. _'You're a walking, talking result of a sin, you bastard boy.' _"Joffrey, you must see reason as difficult as that is for you. You cannot go around abusing and torturing whoever you wish because you're the King; that is how Kings are killed! Do you want to be known as a king who abused his subjects? Is that how you want to end your legacy as one?"

"I don't care what people see me as! They have to obey my laws regardless. What do you know about being a King?"

"That you must love your subjects and respect them as much as they respect you. You listen to them. You protect and defend them. You do whatever you can to ensure their safety and good health. You live for your kingdom, Joffrey. You are a King now. You're not a little boy anymore, so stop acting like one!"

"I can act as I like-"

"-And that is what is going to get you killed! Do you think you'll last during this war? Do you think everyone is going to idly sit by and watch you rule this way? Even now, out there in the world, there are people working against you because they see you for the little shit you are!"

"You are talking to a King!"

"I thought I was talking to my brother!" She looked at him, pleading in her eyes, 'Joffrey….Aren't you tired?"

"What?"

"Aren't you tired of all the anger and hate inside you? Hasn't it flushed you out yet? Where does it come from? Why are you so angry, Joff?"

"SILENCE! I don't have to answer to anyone, let alone a thing like you! Ser Meryn, if she speaks again, hit her until she is quiet."

"Joffrey-"

Ser Meryn Trant came over and threw a fist into her stomach. Sienna lurched from the pain, the wind being knocked out of her lungs. His gloved fist found her jaw, which ached as painfully as the one he brought to her opposite cheek. The knight hit her until Sienna stopped moving. Blood trickled from her mouth where a loose tooth sat in the back of her mouth beside a cut cheek. The lead taste of it filled her mouth instantly. She laughed.

"I see how this court works. A King who doesn't even take out punishments himself and knights who beat up women," She choked out, spitting a large wad of blood into Meryn's face.

Meryn smacked her again, blood spraying on the floor.

"Why do you bother calling yourself a woman?" Joffrey asked, "You never acted like one. People always said you were father's favorite son and you weren't even a boy."

"You're just jealous because you were too craven for the likes of a real Baratheon..."

"I AM A BARATHEON!" He shouted. "I AM THE RIGHTFUL HEIR TO THE SEVEN KINGDOMS! WE CAME FROM THE SAME MAN! WE ARE BOTH HIS CHILDREN!"

"Then why do you have a lion with your stag? 'Joffrey of the Houses Lannister and Baratheon' I don't recall father having that as his sigil...Oh right, because The Lannisters are the ones ruling the country, not the lawful house." Meryn gave her another punch in the gut for her insolence.

She saw him raging inside. He ordered Ser Ilyn to continue whipping Sansa. She merely watched. Her heart breaking more and more as Sansa screamed for her. She didn't know what to do. She prayed for a sign. She prayed to The Crone for guidance, The Mother for mercy, and...The Stranger. She prayed, in her head, to The Stranger to take her brother's life there and now. Nobody ever prays for death. She did for his.

The lashes stopped when Sansa's body went limp. Sienna's heart might as well have stopped beating. Her love lied there yards away pale and covered in blood. She did not have the stillness of death. Sienna knew she had fainted from her blood loss, but seeing her so still, she might as well be dead. Joffrey, with permission, will have her executed for this. They cannot kill Sansa because they need the North once Robb Stark is dead, but her...she's disposable. Her grandfather sees her as an annoyance to be married off or hushed up. Her mother might have loved her once, but more as a possession than her child.

She watched the men picked up Sansa easily. They placed her on the maester's gurney, where they marched her out of the throne room. Seeing her body there so still, Sienna wondered if Sansa shall die. Perhaps something may "go wrong" in healing her; Maester Pycelle might accidentally mistaken nightshade for poppy in his old age and poison her. Sienna felt guilt; shame and regret fill her insides like water.

_'I am so sorry, Sansa. Your knight cannot save you this time. I am sorry I ever kissed you. I am sorry I ever told you how I felt. All this could have been avoided if I never touched your sweet lips or let you stay in my arms through the night. I have dishonored you. People will now shame you wherever you go because of what we had. You will never hear the end of it. You'll be lucky to die from those wounds, so then you would be away from this. Yes, you would no longer grace the world with your beauty or your shine, but you would be safe. I would join you soon. I promise I shall join you soon. The Gods made us for each other, remember? I will follow you there. I promise.'_

Joffrey told some men to take Sansa back to her bedroom. He stared at her. "Your execution will be held after we defeat Stannis. Until then, put her in a black cell."

_'If you defeat him,'_ Sienna thought.

Too weak for resistance, she allowed the men to drag her all the way to the Traitor's Walk and into the dungeons. They passed downward through the first and second. The first holds common criminals, who all saw her in the glinting sunlight shining through the windows. Their dirty hands clawed out for her, though a turnkey beat them all back. They spat out dirty, suggestive slurs. One asked if she'd be staying with them. Sienna ignored their japes and eyes. Her mind dwindled on the auburn haired girl, who she made smile this morning with the thought of running away together on a ship to Pentos. Sienna wished they had gone together. Sienna wished it from the minute she saw Sansa smile. She regretted never searching for a ship.

The second floor remained deserted. Any nobles accused of wrongdoing were placed in these cells until their trial. Sienna will not have the luxury of staying in these small, windowless rooms guarded by idle jailors. The black cells were in the third floor above the torture chamber. Most go through there in darkness. Her father told her there are things nobody would wish to see.

They tossed her into the cell, shut the door and left her in a world of darkness. The stench of decayed feces, piss, and blood stung her nostrils. Her eyes strained in adjusting to the blackness of the cell. She thought she saw shapes everywhere. She stretched out her hands until she found the nearest wall, and then sank down to the floor. Her entire body ached from the beating. She rubbed her rib cage tenderly, used the corner of her dress to pressurize the blood flowing out of her lip, and gingerly felt for the broken tooth in her mouth. Painfully, she removed the tooth with her hand until she felt nothing but a gaping hole remained in the back of her mouth. The tooth felt small with a crack down the middle; a gash began healing up inside her cheek. This had not been the first time she ached. Though, it was the first time her heart felt truly broken.

There is no sense of time in a black cell. One will wake up not knowing whether it is morning and pass out without knowing if the sun went down. The jailors say nothing when they bring bread and water; the water hot and the bread hard. She only kept drinking the water to soothe the dryness in her throat, which dissipated for only a few minutes. Her body hardly moved from her space by the wall. Her muscles felt stiff or sore; she gulped for air her lungs hardly caught. She'd die down here.

If Stannis took The Red Keep, he'd never know her whereabouts unless somebody told him. Sansa would probably be spared. He wouldn't hurt her. He'd have no reason. It'd be logical to give her back to her brother, though sending her home isn't the best option with Bolton's bastard there. Perhaps her uncle will allow Sansa to stay until her brother can collect her. Perhaps he will give her Storm's End since news of Renly's death reached her down below. He has no sons. Tommen is not a true Baratheon despite being the sweetest of boys. Unless he picks one of her father's bastards, Storm's End could be hers. She didn't need the Iron Throne. She only needed a nice castle, good food, a warm hearth and Sansa. Nothing more and nothing less.

She pictured it in times of loneliness. Sansa and her living together in Storm's End. They'd have those children they wanted playing in the castle walls or training together in the yard. They could watch ships sail by in the ocean, or read together in the library. Sansa's hair would flow through the gushing sea breezes, and Sienna would stand and admire her from afar. They'd laugh in the halls, they'd make love in their bed chamber, and they'd live out their days away from the world. Nobody would dare say a thing about it. Stannis would not mind. He'd turn a blind eye.

_'Keep it to yourself, child. Your father might not be as forgiving as me.' _He said when he found her with her mother's handmaiden.

Stannis never approved. Nobody in Westeros approves unless they're a brothel customer. She remembered his stern warnings in private. He simply turned away when he saw the hints in Sienna's eyes. He hated soiling his perfect picture of her. His firm words made her do it far away from home in the first place. He said her father would find out one day because 'the spider keeps birds in the walls'. She had no idea what that meant, but she listened to her uncle.

Renly. Joking, laughing, kind Uncle Renly. They say he died days ago in his encampment at Storm's End. The rumors float it was one of his kingsguard who killed him; Catelyn Stark had been there to make an alliance and things got out of hand, and some even say Stannis did it himself. Regardless, Sienna lamented a moment. Renly may not have been the toughest of Baratheons, but he charmed her all the same. When she was young, he'd buy her the most fabulous gifts for her name-day. He'd always be available for a good laugh and a goblet of wine. They clashed swords, and wagered in tourneys. He loved her. He showered her in it. Possibly because he felt Robert gave her none.

Sitting with knees against her chest, Sienna began muttering the words of 'A Cup of Ale', her father's favorite drinking song. She missed him. She missed him more than ever. Like a child, tears fell from her weary eyes. She sobbed. She cried until the tears tired her out, and she felt into a deep sleep.

_The sun gave his solar a warm glow of gold and black. She saw the tapestries weren't touched; the bed covers remained the same as she remembered them, and his armor display hadn't been moved. She saw Orys bounding up to her, barking and begging to be petted. She laughed, scratching the soft black fur behind his ears. His rough tongue licked her cheeks affectionately, constantly trying to put his head into her hands for more petting. She hugged him. She kissed the top of his snout. She felt his body for a hole. She wondered why he was here. She laughed. _

"_Ah, I missed you, Orys," She hugged him again. "So much. You miss me too?"_

_He licked her face again. _

_"There you are..." _

_His voice was as deep as she remembered. Her eyes saw him sitting at his desk, jerkin tight around his stomach and crown on his head. Grey meshed into his black beard and hair and a strong hand gripped a wine cup. He sat there as if it were an ordinary day. They were alone in the room besides the dog, who sat beside her obediently. Their eyes met from across the room. _

_"Father?" _

_"You look like hell. Did that idiot squire hit you again? Hugh has to learn to control that boy before I kill him." He gulped down wine, "I hope you got him back."_

_She felt confused a moment, "Yes, I did, father. Right in his nose...he cried like a baby..."_

_Robert chortled. "Haha, that's my girl. Tough as nails, you are. Come on, sit and have a drink with your old man. I won't be around forever you know."_

She woke up in the darkness from her dream. Tears spilled down her cheeks at once. His face seemed so clear in her mind now. She worried she might have forgotten the details already: The wrinkles, the graying beard the fat gut and hearty laugh. Orys. Why had Orys been there? As part of the dream? Mayhap, like Sansa, she dreamed for her own pet too. Her body felt so weary sitting in the dark, damp cell. She imagined an escape. Though, that would never happen now. Nobody escapes these cells alive.

_"You look so beautiful," Her mother said in the brightest smile. _

_"I feel stupid," Sienna told her. "What if they all laugh at me?"_

_"Nobody would dare laugh at the Princess of Westeros," She came closer to her. "Do you remember the story of the Great Swan?"_

_"Yes. The Father wanted to make a creature of divine beauty, and test the hearts of men. So, he made a swan because swans are pretty. She grew up to be the most beautiful creature alive, and all the boy swans wanted to mate with her, but she wasn't allowed to because then she'd be tainted and wouldn't be pretty anymore. But one day, a poacher came to kill her and take all her shiny feathers, and she fought him off with all her strength and The Father's wrath. A large black duck had seen her fighting and was amazed."_

_"And what happened next?"_

_"The black duck saw the swan and instead of falling in love with her for her beauty, he fell in love with her for her strength. They lived together in the grace of The Father forever, and the swan never lost her beauty."_

_"So you see, my lioness? You will be like The Great Swan, and men will fall at your feet from all your beauty and strength. Though, only one will be good enough for my sweet daughter..."_

_"I don't want to find a black duck. I want to hold a holdfast and fight in battles."_

_*Her mother sighed. Soon everything became black. Her father stood in front of her grinning proudly as he held his insides from coming through his laceration in his side; Stannis beside him with his hard eyes in red hot flames; Renly in his teasing smile holding a stab wound in his heart. Her mother shaved of hair with wildfire in her eyes, Joffrey whose face was pale and purple lips curved into a self-righteous smile. She saw Sansa naked in blood, alongside Orys standing with the arrow in his side. Myrcella was missing an ear and Tommen held his own head for her to see. Her uncle Jamie filthy in his iron chains though missing one hand, and her uncle Tyrion scarred with a missing nose.* They all chanted her name in unison. They all crowded over her. She screamed, though they never stopped coming. She kicked everywhere. She felt something holding her down. She covered her face, begged them to leave her be._

_Then silence. She opened her eyes. Lord Varys took their place in his silks and perfumes. He said her name, though he sounded thousands of miles away. He continued saying it. She didn't know how he got there or where the others went. _

"Sienna..."

She screamed loudly into the stifling air. Her body covered in a hot, thick layer of sweat; she quaked like a frightened child. Tears filled her eyes a second time in the grievous hours spent in the cell. She ran a hand through her matted hair, rearranged her aching bones, and closed herself in, never minding the hooded man standing before her in the cell.

"I appreciate your...your visit, Septon," Sienna said, blinking back tears, "But I have no wish to confess today."

"I beg to differ," A calm voice said, "Judging by these nightmares the jailor says you have, you have many things to confess."

_'Varys...'_

The eunuch smiled in the dim light of his lamp. The wool cloak covered the flowery perfume, but not his smooth cheeks or twinkling eyes. He handed her a large pitcher of water she took thankfully. She gulped the substance expecting a warm, flat taste, though instead, something cool and refreshing. Sienna swallowed half the pitcher, ignoring the dribbles down the sides of her mouth and onto her dress. She wiped sweat from her brow, took in lungfulls of air, and stared up at the man again.

A flood of questions fell past her lips. "Have we won the siege then? How long have I been in here? Is Sansa alive? How are Tommen and my uncle? Nothing has happened to them has it?"

"One question at a time: You have been in this cell for four days, and Stannis has not yet reached us. Your uncle, who is alive and well, believes he may attack tomorrow night. Tommen is fine as always and constantly asks the Queen if he may see you...but you know what she had said..."

"'No'"

"Precisely. The Lady Sansa healed from her whipping quite well. Your mother-"

"-The Queen-"

He corrected himself, "The Queen, has her chambers guarded until time she is taken into Maegor's Holdfast where the women will be held during the battle. Despite everything, Sansa is indeed a lady of court, so The Queen is expected to treat her as such."

"Has she..."She hesitated in her question.

"Yes?"

"Has Sansa...Has she asked for me? Does she say anything about me even in the privacy of her chambers? Do you know?"

He gave a long sigh. "She does. A little bird told me she cries on and off for you every night. She mutters your name in her dreams, and hardly eats. The King had her beaten recently for when she said your name in climax and not his."

Sienna snorted. "My Sansa...What brings you all the way down here?"

He set his lamp on the floor and bent down, "I believe you asked me to keep you updated on developments in my plan?"

She forgot her discussion with him. She almost forgot everything. "Yes, I did."

"Well, my contacts say they are close enough and ready to meet."

"Ready to meet? How will I...Who...I'm in here."

Varys simply shifted his lamp towards the opposite corner of the cell. In the puzzle of stone blocks, she saw a fine crack splitting all of them. She squinted her eyes for a better look, though only caught that small bit of line.

"A passage way?"

"King Maegor had them built all around The Keep in case he needed to escape," He told her. "This one will lead you out towards the shores behind the castle. My contact says they will be there when you arrive tonight."

"What are we discussing?"

"Your future. Lady Sansa's future. The future of this realm. I'm not sure you realize just how much support you've been granted in the few months you've been home. You not only have the people, but I've heard a lord or two is listening. Joffrey's whipping of Sansa, his injustices, and his outright tyranny aren't going completely unnoticed. Your bravery, your truthfulness, and devoted love have gained their sympathy...Tonight, the guard will knock on your door three times, and you will go through the passage."

"And they will be there?"

"If they have not changed their minds, yes they will be."

She watched him shuffle towards the door. She called out, "Why are you helping me?"

He turned to her and grinned, "Because I serve those who serve the realm."

With that, Lord Varys shut the door, leaving her in total darkness again.


	16. Chapter 16: The Contacts

_The Red Keep burned in flames. Hot, red flames scorching everything in the great keep: The stables and their horses, the kitchens and their cooks, the libraries and their scholars, and the keep with its lords. She heard screams come from all sides. She saw men burn like walking torches, all the roses in the garden turned from vibrant red to a dried black, birds flew into the flames and burnt to a crisp at once, and a lion stood in front of her. _

_The tawny-colored animal bared its fangs in a low growl. Her hoof dug into the ground a few times, her black eyes focused on the large creature. She put her head in a ramming stance. The lion balanced itself on its paws, leaning its torso back like a bed spring, and then it leapt. _

She woke to the sound. She couldn't register the first one in her sleepy daze, but the next two came to her loud and clear. Was it night already? Sienna sat in her corner for a moment. She hadn't thought this entire plan through. Who were these contacts of Varys's? What were their intentions? For all she knew this could all be a trick. Varys may have been ordered by The Queen to kill her. The Queen was clever enough for that. She exhaled into the still air; her heart settled into a steady beat as her mind ran through all the possible outcomes. Her brother would have her killed on the morrow if the siege went in their favor. There'd be no purpose in killing her secretly…well, except the fact her death would be absolute. The King and Queen Reagent would want her death publically known as an example to any rebelling lords and ladies. The people wouldn't revolt without an actual catalyst. The siege of King's Landing may scare them back into their homes. They'll cower away from the chance to take the city from the people who torment them. The Queen and her cronies would win once again.

Sienna's hand trailed up the stone wall as she rose from her seat. Her knees wobbled slightly, her backside feeling sore from the hard floors and her muscles aching in her movements. Regardless, she reached for the general direction of the passageway. She checked all along the corner for the crack in the wall. A few minutes of pushing, pounding, and pulling the door submitted to her. A gust of wind came right into the room smelling of the ocean and leaving a cold dampness on her skin. She had no idea what lied at the end of this passage, but she must go. She'd die if she stayed here. She gingerly stepped into the passage, and then moved by touch. She didn't fear losing her way because the passage only leads her forward; with the guidance of the dirt walls, she made her way fine enough. The passageway appeared poorly made. At times the wall brushed right against her back, the ceiling might bump her along the head, and she nearly lost her footing when her foot went over the edge of a step. Her hands nearly lost of the wall once or twice in her long travel west. The salty scent in the air grew stronger the closer she came and the sound of crashing oceans reached her ears.

At the end of the passage, her heart lifted. She saw a bright light shining through a caged door. It glowed a dim orange, casually swaying left and right in the winds of the sea. She couldn't make out what held this light, but she was thankful.

"Princess Sienna," A man's voice said at the end, "Is that you?"

She hesitated. One could never fully trust Lord Varys, being he has so many secrets and so many spies. Only a fool would answer so boldly: "Ye-Y-Yes."

She reached the end of the passage. Her knees ached as they bent up the steep stairs. She braced herself against the iron cage, her eyes blinded by the lamplight.

"Oh Seven Hells," The man said, "That boy put you through the ringer, didn't he?"

"More like Ser Meryn did, and he watched."

The man scoffed. Sienna couldn't see his face behind the bright light nor in the dark night. She only deduced his slight form and short cut hair. He smelled of the ocean. She knew this man was a sailor or a well-known in the ways of ships. Men who captained vessels usually smelled of the seas after a long journey. He used a key to open the gate, and then assisted getting her into the fresh air.

Sienna gulped the air like water. Her eyes scanned the deserted beaches behind the Red Keep for any sign of life, though found nothing but a small boat with a black sail on the shore. The tides gently slapped the rocks in the black waters; slapping themselves on the small bit of shore available and receding back into the waters. Nothing but the waves sounded here. The world was at peace. The moon above shined like the High Septon's crown, and the stars became patrons at his sermon.

'_Nothing's better than the sea,'_ She thought.

"Here, my lady," A woman handed her a bottle, "This will ease your sores."

She drank the contents without question. The liquid tasted similar to milk of the poppy, though tangier and smoother. An instant relief came to her thighs and legs. The swimming feeling in her mind slowly faded, making her think clearer. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at Vary's contacts.

The man holding the lantern was indeed slight, dark-haired with a beard peppered in grey. He wore a small pouch around his neck, with a sigil of an onion on his breast. His eyes were full of purpose, though he showed concern for her well-being. He placed the lamp on the ground against the wall so it reflected back around them all.

The woman who handed her the bottle stood not too far from him. She wore red. The layers of her dress came in different shades of reds, flowing around her in the winds. Her hair matched the flames in the lantern, and the ruby in the middle of the choker on her neck shined. Her red lips contrasted with her milky skin. They curled into a greeting smile, her eyes scanning over the girl in front of her. Surely, this woman was not from Westeros. Sienna saw people like her roaming the Free Cities, preaching the words of their strange and malicious God.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"I am Ser Davos of House Seaworth," The man said, "And this is Lady Melisandre. We are here on behalf of your Uncle Stannis." She knew them both right away. Her entire body stood still. What could he want with her?

"You're a red priestess of R'hllor," Sienna stated abruptly.

"You're familiar with the Lord of Light?" She sounded impressed.

"I've seen priests and priestesses from time to time in the Free Cities, advocating and asking for volunteers in their…ceremonies," She responded. Her eyes turned on the knight, "And you're the man who saved my uncle and his men at Storm's End during the rebellion. My uncle told me you smuggled onions and salt beef past the Tyrell lines; saved all his men from starvation. They would've died without you."

Davos grinned, "Like what you did in the Street of Flour."

"Yes, but the men you fed continued being fed afterwards," She added. "I hardly made a dent in their real suffering."

"But your uncle's giving you the chance to rid us of the real problem," Davos replied. He stood with his hand on his sword hilt and another fumbling through a pouch on his side. "He's planning on sending these ravens all over Westeros tomorrow."

Sienna took the parchment in her hands. The black stag of Baratheon was stamped into black wax, sealing the scroll tightly in a binding. She broke it open, and then unrolled it:

_'I, Stannis of the House Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby pass on my claim to the Iron Throne to my eldest niece, Princess Sienna Baratheon. She is the trueborn child of King Robert I, and rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms._

_As her uncle, I shall support her claim. As your liege lord, you shall as well._

_Signed,_

_Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End and Dragonstone'_

"Seems he wasted no time in seizing Storm's End," Sienna said. "Is that where he is now?"

"No, he has a garrison there, but he stays in Dragonstone still. I suppose he's used to it there." Something in his voice didn't have her convinced he believed that, "Your uncle plans to help you take your rightful place as Queen."

"But…That's…I…I never wanted it," She said. Her eyes stared at the thin, black, slanting writing, "I never wanted the throne. When I fed those people, it wasn't my intention to steal anything from anyone. I don't even think I'll make a good Queen. My uncle is better suited for a throne than me…I just…"

"You wish to live a simple life," Melisandre touched her hand gently. In the mist of the cold night, her fingers radiated inhuman warmth. Was this woman made of the same fire she worshipped? "But I'm afraid that time hasn't arrived yet. The flames have shown me your destiny, Your Grace. In the beginning, I saw only Stannis, though since you defended the people in the street, they have been showing me you...and others."

"Let me guess, if I don't become Queen we're all going to die some horrible death?"

"The long night _is_ coming, Your Grace. Azor Ahai must wield Lightbringer and fight off the terrors in the darkness." Her crimson eyes bore right into Sienna's, "You are the prophesized warrior we have waited for centuries. I believed Stannis might be him but..." She tried hiding her disappointment, "But you...You are the one who will lead us out of the darkness."

"How come my uncle can't wield this Lightbringer?"

"Because when he tried to seize the sword from the heart of his false gods, the sword would not unsheathe."

"What if it doesn't for me?"

A shadow of a smile came on her face, "It will."

Davos sighed irritably. He stepped forward and said, "Princess, this is your duty as a Baratheon. You are your father's only trueborn child. If you don't take that throne-"

"-Some other idiot will and in a couple of hundred years we'll all start hating him too and history will repeat itself."

He stood firmly in front of her, "Princess...Why do all these traitors want the Iron Throne? Ask yourself. Why do they want this so badly they're willing to kill each other for it? The Lannisters, The Tyrells, The Greyjoys, and even that Stark boy. What do they gain by sitting on the throne?"

She paused. "Power."

"Over what?"

"The Seven Kingdoms...or whatever it is they want."

"And who truly suffers in the end? When all the fighting is done, who are the ones left homeless, sick or dead? Who loses everything while the rich gain everything?"

"The people."

"Why?"

Why was he testing her so much? Why was this stranger prodding in her head? Why was he convincing her so easily that this was the right decision? "Because Kings are tearing their lands apart in battles. They're giving their sons swords and sending them into battles that get them killed. They steal their game in the forests and demand their crops as a pay for passage into their lands. These Kings do as they please without caring what happens to the people they rule afterwards."

"Do they care? Does King Joffrey care who dies fighting for his claim? Does he care whose child goes hungry another day as long as he gets his roast pig and pigeon pie?"

"No."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Do you see anyone doing anything to help the people you care so much about?"

"This is war," She said, half convinced of her own words, "Things like this happen in wars. People die all the time-"

"-And they suffer for it. The ones who don't die go on to live under the rule of a King who hardly cares for them. Every day people are dying of disease or starvation. The world is turning slowly upside down on us, and if this war doesn't end soon, it'll destroy everything your father kept together. People can't walk into certain areas without the fear of bandits; outlaws run free in the woodlands, murdering or raping or stealing whatever they want without justice; rouge knights are on the run from their own duties. The crown spends their money on feasts and name-day tourneys rather than proper military or food for the people. Tywin Lannister's dog, Gregor Clegane, tortures people in Harenhall for information on some Brotherhood. Innocent people, who have done nothing nor know anything. The Ironborn Balon Greyjoy sent into the north have been raiding villages all along the coast lands; his daughter attacking Deepwood Mott. Theon Grejoy took Winterfell, and then his men put it to the torch when he was captured. All these people want power over the men and women they kill."

_'And we're supposed to bow down to them because they're higher born. Everyone has to do what they say because they have the power and want more.'_

"Do you truly want these people shattering your kingdoms?" He asked.

"No."

_'My kingdoms.'_ She never considered the Seven Kingdoms as hers. They'd always be Joffrey's, and later Tommen's (if Joffrey has no children). A moment, Sienna imagined all the people in Westeros bowing down to her. She pictured wearing her father's crown, sitting upon his throne, and giving out his justice to those who wronged her. She'd lead armies into battles; she'd make alliances that could strengthen the Kingdoms, not destroy them. The Maesters will write of her reign for years to come; her heirs will hear of how she vanquished Joffrey the Illborn, her alliance with The North through a marriage with Sansa, and how she charged into battle with the Tyrells, The Ironborn, the Lannisters, and anyone else who challenges her.

...How she fought the Others with a flaming sword and saved the kingdom. She'd be the stuff of legends and songs. Women would name their children after her; they hold their babies up for a blessing; they'd toss her flowers and Seven Blessings.

_'That is not why you should be a Queen. Only bards ask for applause.'_ "I wouldn't make a good Queen," She told them, "I don't know how to run a country. I was taught how to be the lady of a lord's castle one day; not the Queen of a kingdom."

"Your uncle," Melisandre said, "Will help you in any way he could, as well I."

She looked at Davos. He nodded, "I am loyal to your uncle. He rose me up from nothing and gave my son a future. If he has faith in you, then so do I."

"I'm not a politician-"

"-But you are a warrior," Davos said. "A strong one if you can fight off Sandor Clegane. Honestly, I'd like to see what a person like that can do in a battle."

No doubt the stories and rumors spread about the tourney. She then remembered the most important thing, "If I am to come with you, I have one request."

"You wish for Sansa Stark to accompany you," Melisandre said. When Sienna gave her a puzzled look, she continued, "Lord Varys told us of her treatment here in King's Landing, and the horrible fate the Lannisters have in store for her. He has arranged an escape plan for the both of you. He said you two are lovers?"

Sienna froze in place. Nobody ever actually questioned her about her relationship. Everyone assumed her and Sansa were lovers right away because of what Dyanne told them. Even now, she feared answering correctly. Though, she had a thought. When someone is in love, they do not deny they love that person. They never should. So, why should Sienna deny loving Sansa? Because they are women? Because some mighty Gods say what they have is wrong when it is those same Gods who created the human ability of love, and even have a Goddess who represents the emotion?

"It is true," She answered, "I love her and she loves me."

Davos stood a bit stunned, though Melisandre seemed unsurprised. For the first time, Sienna felt relieved. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She saw hope somewhere in her future now. Things can be different if she becomes Queen.

"Stannis will not object," Davos told her. "Even though he's a hard man, I think he does care for you. He never liked you being here with these lions."

"And these lions never liked me being here."

A whistle echoed from above them. Davos gazed upward immediately as if he can see the whistler and nodded. Sienna figured Lord Varys stationed a spy above them in case any guards come walking around at night.

"When do I go? What should I do?" Sienna asked quickly.

"Tomorrow night," Davos replied. "Your uncle plans an attack on Blackwater Bay. During the fight, Lord Varys says one of his spies will unlock your door. You are to go to Lady Sansa's room and steal her away before you're seen; come back to your cell, go through the passage, and a boat will be here waiting."

"Will it be both of you?" She asked.

"Not me. Your uncle wants me to lead the fleet, so one of my sons will be here to escort you and Lady Sansa to a boat anchored not far from here which will take you to Dragonstone."

"I shall be here with you, however, Your Grace."

"We must go now." Davos bowed, "It was an honor finally meeting you, Your Grace."

"And you, Ser Davos."

He hurried back over to his boat, but Melisandre remained. She pulled a red stone from out of her dress folds, and pressed it into Sienna's palm. "A light to guide you and a light to shield you. I will pray for you tonight, Your Grace, for the night is dark and full of terrors."

"Thank you."

She watched her walk away. Melisandre moved like a shadow in the darkness. Her warmth left Sienna the moment she moved away, though the stone in her hand pushed heat into the center of her palm. The small boat pushed off the shore and the two went deep into the night again.

Sienna snuck back into the passage, shutting the gate behind her. Once in the blackness of the passage, the stone glowed like a torch light. It fell light onto a foot or two away from her. With the warm light, the travel back to her cell felt quicker. She went over Davos's words. Did people really believe she could rule the Seven Kingdoms justly? Truthfully? Sansa said so, but that was Sansa being Sansa. Sienna was not even entirely she could handle being a Queen. The idea tore her in half: One half wanted to rule and bring peace to the realm again, and the other half wanted to sail away on a ship with Sansa and never look back.

She knew very little of politics. War and combat were her strong points. She knew the pressure points in the man's body, how to make bow and arrows out of simple wood, and how to spear a man right through the chest. She was less knowledgeable about The Great Houses of Westeros and how they could benefit her cause if they joined her. She didn't even know what lord was fighting for which King. She never thought she'd need to know that.

_'I just need to get out of here. I'll be killed if I stay and so will Sansa.'_

Holding the stone, she found her cell again. This time, she saw the entire room and in the corner, she saw them. Her bow and quiver of arrows leaned against the corner near the door, as well as her sword and the shield she used in her name-day tourney. Inside the quiver, she found a note written in black letters:

_'What is a stag without its horns?'_ She smiled.

**A/N: Ahhhh, we're close to the ending. Are you excited? I am! **


	17. Chapter 17: Prelude to a Beginning

She recalled the first time she ever held a sword. Sienna had been small, thin, but wiry and full of excitement. She practically skipped into the training yard that morning; Stormbringer bouncing against her thighs, and her shield nearly slipping from her grip. She felt the thrill filling her up so much she hardly stayed to break fast with her family. She pulled her uncle Jamie into the training yard, and begged for a lesson before the tourney. Her father eventually followed them, as well as Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kinsguard and The Queen. She remembered butterflies in her stomach. They sent nerves all over her body, giving her unsteady knees and she had to wiggle her toes to feel them. Naturally, she pretended to be perfectly at ease. She never let her uncle know how terrified she was about using this weapon against him. What if she hurt him or he hurt her by accident? What if she wasn't as good as she dreamed? What if she lost in front of her father? Sienna's heart pounded in her chest the whole hour and a half they were fighting; her stomach felt uneasy. Her little hands shook slightly, her breathing became hard to control, and she fought viciously to defend herself against Jamie's pretend assaults.

Sienna felt that same way now. She sat in her damp cell, waiting in the dimness for her fate: Either they'd escape King's Landing or die trying. She hadn't put on any of the weapons Varys laid for her, but they remained around her. She propped herself against the steel shield, held the sword across her lap and the bow and quiver beside her on the ground. The fiery stone wedged into a crack next to her, she examined the sword Varys sent her. The sword, she realized, was not hers. This was not Charger; the sword The Queen gave her as a name-day present. Charger's pommel carried an ordinary ruby set in gold; the grip wrapped in leather so she maintained a firm grasp. The smith engraved flower vines across the painted-gold cross guard. The blade may have been normal steel, but it was as good as most. Sienna cherished that blade because The Queen had given it to her. She believed that had been her way of saying she approved or that she accepted it…she hadn't.

This sword, however, resembled a very familiar sword. The stag's head on the pommel, the white grip changed to black, the Valyrian etchings on the fuller, the sharp edges and smooth steel felt her trembling fingers. When she first found it amongst the weapons, she wept. True, this couldn't possibly be the _real_ Stormbringer, though Varys must have paid for someone to make a replica. She admired the blade for hours in the cell. It hadn't tasted blood. It had not seen battle. It could've been only yesterday her father handed it to her. When she wasn't lamenting over the past, she swung the sword around. She practiced. Sienna couldn't find herself rusty once she left this room, because no doubt she'd need to use it. She'll need all her strength to protect Sansa on their way back here, which will be a long way.

'_Perhaps Sansa can hold the dagger. Stabbing men with a dagger is not especially hard. She'll need to protect herself if we separate.'_ Sienna thought when she lifted the dagger from the kit.

_BONG!_

_BONG!_

_BONG!_

_BONG!_

The castle bells toiled high up in their towers; a sign that the battle was beginning. The Lannister troops have spotted Stannis's fleet far out into the dark waters; they've seen the first few ships emerge from the dense fog. She imagined Lannister men all along the battlements and inside the Keep's walls. They'd spot the large fleet. They'll count as many ships as they can see. Some will already believe the battle is lost, but the fools will carry some sort of hope. If her brother is leading the attack, they're done for. If Uncle Tyrion is, they may stand some sort of chance. The King is a complete lack wit, but her uncle is not. He'll have come up with some clever scheme to hold back or destroy Stannis's army before they touch ground. Naturally, he won't be able to get _all_ of the ships, so they men will have to fight.

Stannis's advantage is numbers. Most of Renly's allies went to him when Renly died, so he will have a larger army at his back. That means more men willing to die for their King and his cause. Perhaps even for their Queen, if Stannis made it known. Her uncle must've found a way to kill most of the men without sacrificing any of his own right away. King's Landing's has only fifty ships, if she recalled. They'll be destroyed if those captains don't know war.

The bells continued ringing. She got up from her spot on the floor and equipped herself: Quiver and bow strapped across her shoulders, dagger tightly in her belt, her shield on her left arm and holding the new sword in her hand. She wedged the stone from the wall and tucked it into her pocket. Melisandre's voice came into her head.

'_A light to guide you and a light to shield you.'_ Shield her with what exactly? She wasn't sure.

Her eyes stared at the bottom of the doorway, or at least where she thought it might be. She heard footsteps marching down the corridor outside; their voices carried into her cell. She saw flashes of torches pass by one after the other right through the crack. All the men were going into battle; hardly any would be staying in the tower watching prisoners while their fellows fight. Most likely, The Queen has at least a few guards stationed here. She bet ten gold dragons those men would turn into deserters or die by the end of the night.

The adrenaline pumped through her body. She almost couldn't feel her hands or feet, and shook off her jitters. She might as well have been one-and-ten, facing her Uncle Jamie, with a short sword and no shield. Sienna took deep breaths. This was no time for nerves. She needed to focus, find Sansa, and leave before the battle escaladed.

After what felt like hours, the door clicked. The crack brought in a warm orange light from the torches along the walls; the stuffy atmosphere succumbed to the fresh air flowing freely inside. She carefully edged towards the open door. She wedged her sword tip into the crack, so it very slowly swung open. Her ears listened for any sounds: footsteps, voices, swords, and even men's silent breaths. She stepped past the threshold into the dimly lit corridor. Her eyes peered down the hall as far as they'd let her, and then back the other way before she moved forward. Quickly, she made her way out of the hall without a sign of trouble. Sienna rushed up the flights of stairs out of the dungeons until she reached Traitor's Walk, where she heard the world outside.

Not too many men populated this side of The Walk, but she saw many more ahead if she took a right. Obviously her uncle will have men on the Walk. It overlooks Blackwater Bay and is above the Mud Gate, which is the weakest of the Keep's four entrances. She should have seen that. Cursing herself, she peeked out the door a small crack for a better look. If she went right, she'd walk right into soldiers manned on the wall, but if she went left, they might not see her. However, going left meant walking right into the White Sword Tower, the Kingsguard chambers. She'd be taking a large risk running in there. If the Seven favored her tonight, the guard will all be with Joffrey, so the tower would be empty. If not…then she'd have a lot of fighting to do. She gripped her sword tightly, her heart pounding in her chest, and slipped out the dungeon door.

By some grace of the Father, the guards did not see her on The Walk. They seemed too interested in the battle coming on the horizon. She saw them fleeing in the opposite direction down The Walk; their boots thumped on the stone grounds, and their armor clanged loudly. They might as well have been singing. Her head constantly whipped between the two large, black and red armored guards and the door to the White Sword Tower as she made her way down. Any moment they might see her, recognize her, understand the situation and trail her. Eventually, she made it into The Tower without being seen.

The Kingsguard abandoned their tower and left it unprotected. She went through all four floors without seeing a single soul. She passed the meeting room, with its large weirwood table shaped like a shield and whitewashed walls, and tapestries of Kingsguard Commanders come and gone. She passed the undercroft, empty of its weapons and armor, and found nobody sleeping or standing in the barracks below. Sienna thought she might not have to use her weapons after all. Until she exited the Tower.

"You!" A voice called out to her.

She whipped around. In the middle of the lower courtyard, two guards approached her. In their Lannister armor, they unsheathed their swords.

"You're going back to the dungeons where you belong!" One grunted.

"You'll have to get me first!"

She clashed swords with the first one, blocking the second's blow with her shield. Uncle Jamie came to her again. He commanded each step, applauded every good move, and backseat fought. She flung her shield arm as hard as she could into the second guard, who fell to the floor in a loud clash, and continued fighting the first. He was a burly man, like all guards. Square-shouldered, long-armed, and bearded, she hardly could see her attacker's face. His odd shaped helmet kept the sides close to his face, but no helm covered the hate in his eyes. She did not care. She used the helmet's weird shape to her advantage. In a swift move, Sienna swung her sword on top of his head around his ears. If she hit it right, the ringing would distract him. It did. The man hunched over, pulling the helmet off right away.

"Come here bitch!" The second returned from his place on the ground, and she blocked him.

'_Hurry! Riposte!'_ Uncle Jamie's voice said. '_He's not as big as the other one. Push him off! Use your shield to block-That's a good girl! Fling it to the side! Hit him again! Oh, he's lost his shield, hurry! Strike!'_

Sienna stabbed the second man right through his neck. Blood splattered out onto the cobbled courtyard, the crimson resembling black in the dark night. The first one clearly had no subtly. She fought him off with all her strength. He managed to hit her once, twice, three times. His armored elbow clashed into her cheek; his gloved fist sailed right into the center of her gut, and his shield collided into her face. She lurched over in her pain. It seared her on all sides. She spat out the blood from the reopened cut inside her cheek, and held her ribs a moment. The first man did not hesitate like his fellow. He charged into her again.

'_Side step!'_ Uncle Jamie's voice said, _'He can fling your sword away if you hold it like that. Use your dagger. It's smaller and it'll get him where it hurts.'_ But then, it changed…When she side stepped the man, and he fell to the ground, another voice spoke in her head.

'_He's gettin' up now. Get him quick before he tries to take you down again. Make him wish he had never come out of his mother's womb; make him pay for working for the lions instead of the stags.'_ She never heard her father. He hardly trained her himself since he was busy being the King. However, the voice was comforting.

She pulled out her dagger and stuck the man in the side when he came close. The first man stiffened in her grip; then tumbled down like a falling tree. His blood stained her hand. It gradually pooled in with the second man's blood. Though, Sienna never stayed to watch. Her eyes looked ahead to Maegor's Holdfast. Here, the Queen, several ladies, and Sansa waited in a private room for the battle to be over. If Melisandre and Davos are right, Sansa will go to her room when the battle worsens. Sienna merely had to wait for her there.

As she approached it, two more guards spotted her across the drawbridge. Without any real thought, she took them down, and sustained a painful kick to the shin. The two men dead, she had only the bridge. The mechanism for the drawbridge sits on the other side of the large moat. In order to get across, she'd have to find a way there without it. She couldn't run and jump because the moat was too large for that. She couldn't shoot an arrow attached to a rope because she had no rope. She couldn't go looking for another way inside because there _was_ no other way in.

Then she heard a whistle from across the watery moat. A small girl crept out from behind the door of the holdfast, wearing her roughspun dress and blonde curls in a messy mop; a boy of about eight-years followed her. Sienna recognized the girl from the riot, and the boy as one of their cleaning servants. She watched them both stand on either side of the drawbridge pulley, spinning the wheel right so the ropes of the bridge carefully brought the bridge down over the moat. Once fully down, she crossed.

"His lordship says the Lady Sansa is not in her chambers yet," The boy said, "So you must wait for her there."

"When will she come?"

"When the battle goes south," He replied. "There are only four guards in the holdfast: Two inside the room and two outside, with Ser Ilyn with the women."

She nodded. "Thank you. You've been a big help."

The boy simply bowed, but the girl hugged her, muttering a 'good luck' under her breath. She couldn't restrain the smile. Sienna patted her back twice, and then told her and the boy to pull up the drawbridge, and then hide.

She walked into the Maegor's Holdfast. She stared around the corridors as she made her way to Sansa's chambers. Her ears searched for footsteps, and her eyes looked for shadows or figures. The bells stopped toiling, which meant the battle began. If the world went by numbers, Stannis will overtake them in a few hours. However, if Tyrion thwarted him somehow, it might be a while. She quickly climbed the stairs, hardly seeing a soul, and found Sansa's bedroom.

Sienna hurried into the room without noticing who stood inside. When she turned around, a fire sparked inside her.

Dyanne wore an orange and red gown made of lace and satin. She did not wear the clothes of a handmaiden anymore, but rather the ones similar to the ladies in court. Her dark hair braided into the ridiculous southern fashion Sienna detested, she stood by Sansa's dresser. The jewelry box open, Dyanne held up a necklace to her neck, the diamond pink and white necklace Sienna gave Sansa on Joffrey's name-day feast. She hadn't noticed Sienna until she shut the door.

"Sienna!" She dropped the necklace on the floor, "What are you doing here?! You are supposed to be in the black cells!"

"If anyone should be in those cells, it's you," Sienna replied. "Why are you in Sansa's room?"

"Oh, just trying on a few of her things," Dyanne seemed to relax when she realized Sienna wasn't there to kill her. Though, she shouldn't have put her guard down, my friends. "Sansa has a lot of nice jewelry. The Queen said I could have it when she leaves, since she would not be needing it when she goes back home."

"Put it down, and get out of here."

"You are not in charge of me anymore," Dyanne turned to her. She put the necklace down and leaned against the dresser, "After you left, The Queen made me a lady. Lady Dyanne of the Blackwater. I do not take orders anymore. I give them."

"Take this one: Get out."

"I do not understand why you are being so hostile, love," The willowy girl came up to her timidly. Sienna could smell the oranges and peaches on her, and she hated it. "We could have been so happy if you had just pushed Lady Sansa aside. The Queen even promised to reconsider at your execution. She said if you agreed to go live in the Dreadfort with your new husband, Lord Bolton, she will not hurt you. She even said I could go with you. I have been so worried about you since the tourney happened. I was worried I was going to lose you when The Queen told me what The Hound was going to do..."

"You knew?" Sienna glared at her. "You knew she was planning to kill me?"

"She told me not to say anything. She said she did not know if she would yet. I was only supposed to make sure that little squire boy did his job in loosening the armor around your neck...but it seems The Hound threatened him or paid him or something...I am so sorry, my sweet. I will never betray you again once you take me back, I promise..." Her fingers danced along Sienna's hips. The girl never moved once. She didn't see anything in the large brown eyes batting their lashes at her, or in the sweet smile playing on the pink lips. "I can help you forget all about that idiot girl. How can you even like her? She is so simple and she cannot even defend herself properly. She is too stupid to see that people are using her."

"No, hold on, you knew I was going to be killed and did not even bother to tell me?" Sienna asked her again. "When you claimed to have so much love and affection for me?"

"You do not understand, Sienna!" Dyanne took her hands, but Sienna pulled away, "Your mother said she would kill me if I told you anything. She already thinks I told someone because you survived with only a minor injury on your ribs."

"I hardly call broken ribs a minor injury..."

"I am so sorry. I should have told you. I know it was wrong of me."

"Sansa would have told me. Sansa would have protected me."

"Sansa is a stupid girl with songs in her head!" Dyanne snapped. "She knows nothing of the real world! All she does is cry and whine. She's a child, a stupid ignorant child. Of course, she would have told you because she would not know a good decision from a bad one. Telling you would have killed-"

The blade went through her back into her kidney area. Dyanne's body shook in Sienna's arms, the girl's eyes bulging out and her throat making choking sounds. Her hands clutched at Sienna's shoulders, though the other girl gave her no actual support. She felt warm blood splatter on her hand where the wound was, and could feel the heat against her fist.

"You should be the one going to Winterfell. You should be the one in my dreams who stands in the snow, flayed and bleeding. You're a manipulative foreign whore and I never should have trusted or cared about you. You're the simple one. You think because The Queen gave you a title makes you safe?" Sienna spat. "No! Nobody is safe here, especially you. You know too much about her plans: the tourney, Sansa's trip to Winterfell, and my betrothal to Roose Bolton. Girls like you have loose tongues, and The Queen doesn't like people who have loose tongues." She sunk the dagger in further, "Notice how you're a supposed lady, but are left to fend for yourself outside? If you were so important, you'd be in there with the real highborn ladies. The Queen is probably praying they breach these walls, so a few dozen men can come in here, rape you and then kill you. It'll spare her the energy. You're nothing to her. You're nothing to me. You're nothing to anyone, and you will die here knowing you betrayed people who loved and trusted you for a title you're never going to keep."

"I...I...Sien..."

Sienna could almost feel Dyanne's life slowly leave her. Her body slumped from her embrace, landing right on her back with the wound staining blood on her dress. She grabbed a sheet from Sansa's bed to cover her with, and then moved her to the side. Sitting on a chair beside the window, Sienna took the necklace in her hands. She stared at the body on the floor yards away. Should she have killed her? Should the death have been so harsh? Maybe. Whatever The Queen had in store for Dyanne would've been worse.

_'She probably would've accused her of some kind of treason or even arrested her for letting me fuck her,'_ Sienna thought spitefully. _'She's a cunning bitch, that Cersei Lannister.'_


	18. Chapter 18: Trust

She held the costly necklace in her hand. The diamonds, white and pink, shined as real as the silver clasp holding it together. She noticed they took a flower shape, the silver making fine lines to define them from one another, now that she examined the piece. Sienna would never have bought Sansa something so intricate. She wore simple charms on her necklaces: the ebony flower, the silver dragonfly, and even that god awful golden Lannister locket. Sienna contemplated placing this with Dyanne's body, and then finding something new for Sansa. She hadn't truly purchased this for her anyhow. She'd find a piece fitting for an elegant lady like her love: A silver oval depicting the Stark wolf? A glass heart-pendant with a flower inside? A string of shiny pearls found in the depths of the Jade Sea? Sienna tossed the necklace on the dresser, and sunk into her chair.

Very little commotion happened outside the door. Most of the action happened beyond the gate. In the distance, over Blackwater Bay outside the Mud Gate, flashes of burning green and red sparked between each other. The green flames set over the water without being doused out; untamed and wild; they spread throughout all of Stannis's ships and burned them into the waters. Wildfire. Her uncle somehow found wildfire for a tool in the battle. The red stayed on the mainland and scorched up whoever happened to run into it or who had the misfortune of being pierced by a fiery arrow. It reminded her of her dream. There had been fire in The Keep, setting everything to flame right away. She hoped that never happened.

She jumped when the door opened, her sword singing as it drew out of her sheath. The heavy footfalls, the staggering feet, and the large leaning arms for support told her the visitor was not Sansa. She gripped her sword tightly seeing him walk in, shutting the door and leaning against it. She could already tell the drink overtook him, so if they fought, he wouldn't be in the best condition. Sienna however, still kept her guard up.

He dismissed her with a hand, "Put your sword down, girl. I ain't gonna fight you. I'm not fighting anyone anymore."

"Clegane?" She watched him stumble into a chair near Sansa's bed. "Why are you in here? You're supposed to be out there! Fighting and defending the city!"

"Fuck the city," He growled. "It's going to shit anyway."

"Stannis has won?"

"No. He's getting there though. They've outnumbered us…that….the…the fire….it…"

This was the first time she saw it. Sandor Clegane, The Hound, The King's Sworn Shield, one of the most renowned fighters in Westeros, feared by more men than they'd care to admit, shook like a leaf in a storm. He pushed stringy strands of hair from his scarred face, and she saw the terror hidden in his eyes. The man tried concealing it with a stone expression, but she saw it in that brief glimpse of the light. He didn't care about the wine streaming out the side of his mouth as he gulped the very last of it. His breath became ragged and unsteady. He lurched over, though did not vomit.

"It…The damned stuff was everywhere!" Why was he telling her this? "Your uncle…The dwarf….he set wildfire on Stannis's ships, but the archers put fire all over the ground….it was….I had to leave….This city's going to hell and I'm not staying around to go with it."

"Then why are you here? If you're deserting your post, you should have fled the city."

"To see you, girl," He said. "Some little boy told me I could find you in here because you'd escaped your cell…how'd you do that?"

"Varys helped. He has men who work in the dungeons, I suppose."

"Ah, the spider's helping you. No wonder the little shit couldn't ever find anything out about you. You have no idea how many times that little shit would go around asking people if they'd seen you doing anything out of the ordinary or if you'd been doing something treasonous, like he was finding an excuse. Hearing you were fucking his little bird pissed him the hell off."

"And I don't care…Because if I ever come across him, I'll stick my sword right into his chest."

Sandor grinned at that. "And you don't mind? Killing your brother? You don't mind putting your steel right into his bastard heart and watching him die right in front of you?"

She pondered on it: Joffrey dying. Yes, she wished it on him hundreds of times. Yes, she pictured him in the Sept of Baelor at his funeral, all displayed as all kings are before they are put in the crypts. However, Sienna never saw herself doing it. She saw the aftermath, but not the act. Could she kill him? Could she actually put a sword in his heart? Her father always told her killing was easier said than done. Ser Barristan Selmy once told her killing is not for the weak hearted, and her Uncle Jamie said it takes a certain kind of person to mercilessly kill. If she killed Joffrey, she'd be branded a kinslayer…is it kinslaying if it is a half-sibling?

He gave a low chuckle, "You couldn't do it no matter how bad you wanted. Killing is for killers, not little girls playing with swords."

"I've killed men before…" She sat on the bed close to him, "There was a Braavosi who cheated me in a game of dice, and a drunk Lysene whom I outbid for one of the whores in the brothel."

"Aye, those are men, but your brother's a different story. That's flesh and blood; not some stranger who swindled money from you. You can think about killing that shit king millions of times and you won't do it because you'll remember, he's your brother. You'll remember you're both family. You'll remember that you are supposed to love him. He'll look up at you all terrified and probably shit his pants, and he'll get his sympathy from you."

"And there was always somebody standing in my way," She sized him up.

He grinned, "Even if I wasn't in your way, you could never swing the sword on him. You don't hate him enough yet. When you want to kill a man out of vengeance, you truly must hate him...despise him...loathe him...You don't hate Joffrey yet. You dislike him. You can't kill a man you dislike."

"Why's that?"

"Because that means you still have sympathy for him. You can't have sympathy in war or in combat or in a battle. You can't have a gentle heart; otherwise someone will come along and crush you."

"Are you trying to convince me not to kill Joffrey?" She asked.

"I don't have to...I already know you won't..."

"Just like how you didn't kill me during the joust when told to do so?" She asked. "Don't killers kill when they're told?"

The Hound glared, "Careful, girl. I might be drunk, but that don't mean I won't stick this blade in you."

"You can hardly stand straight. You're not killing anyone right now, Clegane."

For some reason, The Hound laughed again. So she asked, "Why didn't you kill me when my brother told you to? You said you were saving my life."

"I didn't want to you kill, simple as that..." He responded.

"No, it's not that simple. You disobeyed The King and Queen-"

"-The Queen told me your armor would be loose around your neck. She said all I had to do was lift up my lance at the right moment. I could've done it, you know. I could've stuck my lance right into your tiny neck like they said, and you would've died choking on your own blood just like that prancing Ser Hugh did a year ago."

"But you didn't..."

"Because these Lannisters forgot: I'm not Gregor. I'm not my brother."

Sienna watched him. Her grandfather called Ser Gregor 'dim, but valuable'. Valuable in the sense he had no problem killing old men and babies, and then raping their daughters or mothers, with finally putting their homes to the torch. Her uncle Jamie told her Rhaegar Targaryen knighted Gregor personally, and a few years later, that same knight killed his children and raped his wife. Men call him "The Mountain that Rides" due to his very large stature.

Clegane might have killed, but he did it in the service of killers. He never killed someone he thought was innocent.

"No. You're not him, like how I'm not my father..."

"But you are a Baratheon. It's written all over you. That's how Ned Stark figured it out before Ilyn took his head...Don't try denying it!" He said to Sienna's annoyed face.

"Let me guess: Because I'm stubborn, bawdy and strong?"

"No. You're the same kind of killer as they are. You'd kill for honor and law like Stannis; you'd kill for glory and fame like Renly, and you'd kill for love like your father. You're the worst kind of killer, my lady."

"What kind is that, Clegane?"

"A vengeful killer. These fools here think they had you when they stuck you in that cell, but they didn't know they were just giving you a bit of thinking time."

She heard the door click in that moment and she came. She finally arrived. A small wave of relief came over Sienna seeing her walk into the room, locking the door behind her. Sienna believed she might be in a horrible nightmare turned fantasy. She took in all of her right there by the door. Sansa looked no different than the last time she saw her. She thought the last time they met would be their last. It was as if Joffrey hadn't laid a hand on her...until she moved forward too quickly and winced.

"Little bird shouldn't even be standing up, let alone running," Clegane said.

"Sienna..." Sansa said, the fear in her face fading into a delighted surprise.

"Sansa...Sansa...Oh Gods!"

She kissed her with all the power she could muster. Her thumbs brushed the tops of Sansa's cheeks; her nose took in large inhales of her scent. Everything vanished when she kissed Sansa. She wanted to kiss her forever.

"What...How...Ho-How did you get here?" Sansa asked breathlessly when they broke apart. "You're supposed to be in the black cells."

"It'll take more than a wooden door to keep me in a cell," Sienna said. She picked up her shield, "We need to leave now. Take only what you really need."

"What do you mean? After the battle, Lord Baelish said he'd be taking me home," The joy in her eyes made them glint in the dim light, "Sienna, I'm going back to Winterfell. He told me Lord Tywin and my brother came to an agreement: Me in exchange for your uncle. I'll be riding home while Ser Jamie is being brought here. Sienna, maybe if you apologize to Joffrey and agree to spend some time in the Sept of Baelor, you can stay in Winterfell with me. Oh Sienna, you'd love it there-"

Sansa left her grasp before she could say a word. She babbled on about all the beauty in the North; how she'd meet Sansa's little brothers and they could visit the glass gardens they have together. She said Sienna would love hunting there; the forest is so wide and vast, which makes for good hunting grounds. Sienna's heart tore watching her love bounce around the room, picking up this item and that to put in a small luggage case. Her eyes met Clegane's behind Sansa's back. His eyes told her _'You better tell her before she gets too excited.'_

"Sansa..."

"-Oh and you'll love Maester Luwin! He has this large library of scrolls and books you can read in your free time-"

"-Sansa...-" She headed towards her,

"-The library tower has a lovely view at night."

"-Sansa..."

"-And you can sleep in my room when it gets too cold. I know you don't like being too cold-"

"-Sansa Stark!-" Sienna gripped the wrist holding a linen shift in her hand. She stared into Sansa's eyes, seeing the bliss leave them. "You cannot go to Winterfell."

"Why not? It's safe there."

"No, it's not, Sansa. Roose Bolton's bastard took over Winterfell," She pictured it already, "And he's waiting for you there."

"Roose Bolton is one of my brother's bannermen. He wouldn't harm me. You're being silly, Sienna."

"No, he's turned over. Roose Bolton is working for The Lannisters now." The smile on Sansa's face left. Sienna saw her dream again: The blood in the snow, and the peeled skin lying in heaps around her flayed body. She saw a kicking, screaming Sansa. She saw men surrounding her as they clawed her dress off like hungry wolves. She saw a man with a flaying knife. She held her wrist tighter. "That bastard is going to kill you the minute you get there. That way, The Lannisters will have their Jamie, but the Starks won't have you. You must come with me to Dragonstone, and we'll be safe there with Stannis's army."

"Why would we be going to Dragonstone?"

Sienna told Sansa everything. She told her about Lord Varys, Ser Davos, Melisandre and her mysterious warmth, and the plot to raise her up to her rightful place as Queen. Sansa stared in disbelief as she unraveled all the twists for her. Sienna needed her to believe everything; she needed her to trust her.

"...And if we don't leave now, we might lose our chance at ever leaving this place. Now, please," She stuffed all the clothes in a rucksack she found near her, and handed her dagger to Sansa, "Come with me."

"What about him?" She looked at Clegane.

Clegane stood up as well as he could. He came over to the both of them, eyes boring into each of them equally before he said, "I'll cover you."

"And then we split ways?"

"Aye. I'm not sticking around this place any longer than I have to."

"Thank you, Clegane," Sienna said.

"Thank me if you reach the dungeons with your head still on your shoulders," He replied.

The two headed for the door. Clegane opened it easily, and made his way out as if he hadn't had a drop of wine in his system. War sobers men up, she supposed. Making her way out, she noticed her side was empty. She turned back into the room. Sansa stood in her place by the dresser, holding the dagger and rucksack, uncertainty and fear on her face.

"What if we're found before we get there?" She asked. "What if Joffrey just kills us both?"

_'Then I'd die happy knowing I'd see you on the other side,'_ Sienna thought, though instead said, "That won't happen. Nothing could stop me from taking you away from here. Do you hear me? Nothing. I'd defy all seven gods if it meant you would be safe and sound…Do you trust me, Sansa?"

Sansa hesitated. Then she nodded.

"Then come on." She brought Sansa into the hall where Clegane waited in his defense stance. Her entire body suddenly kicked. "Clegane, you cover the back and I cover the front. Sansa, if anyone comes up to you, block them like this," She held out Sansa's right arm horizontally to her face, "And thrust this forward," She thrust the hand holding the dagger forward. "It'll kill them quickly, trust me. Come on!"


	19. Chapter 19: Forgiveness

The screams of men, the clanging of their armor and distance voices shouting orders echoed through the Keep. People were everywhere, but she saw nobody. Any moment, somebody could come upon the three of them escaping. She'd be killed certainly for her "treason", Clegane killed for his desertion, and Sansa may be taken. She prayed they made it to her cell. She prayed nothing came in their way. She kept her charge in the front, while Clegane kept up the back end so they wouldn't be ambushed outright. She whipped her head to Sansa as Clegane cut down the drawbridge. The red-haired girl kept a brave face, but in her eyes she was frightened. The point of her dagger shook when she held it up. Sienna hoped she'd never need the dagger. Killing men meant nothing to Sienna, but a gentle heart like Sansa? It might destroy her.

She thought about moving her out of the castle, the secret passage leading into the crisp ocean air, and mysterious woman waiting on her boat with a black sail. If they were caught, Sansa would die. Joffrey would see this as a final strike. He'd have her executed just like Sienna. She'd never allow such a thing.

"You!" Two men blocked them once they exited the holdfast, "You're-"

"-Supposed to be back in my cell, I know!"

She stuck the first man without warning as Clegane stabbed the second. They moved quicker once they came out into the courtyard. Here, she realized more men filled the place. They ran here and there. They looted the stables, barracks, kitchens, and wherever else good items could be found, and headed for the gates with women and children. They hardly noticed the escaped prisoner running freely through towards the dungeons. If men deserted the army that meant the battle turned on them. The Wildfire trick may have taken out most of Stannis's forces, but the landing party had arrived. They may have already killed Joffrey. They may have taken the city. She didn't know nor cared. She fought off men who saw her, protected Sansa from those who made for her, and Clegane gutted any man who stepped close enough.

As they reached the White Sword Tower, somebody bellowed behind her. "BARATHEON!"

Ser Balon Swann and several other Kingsguard members stood behind them. She drew a blank in her mind a moment. Her mind conflicted with her feet, so she stood in place as the knights came closer. The knights thought they had her cornered in their semi-circle; a pack of lions on a small lamb. She counted six of them, and two more guards who spotted the anticipate action. They couldn't fight them. Sienna's side burned in pain, Sansa cowered like a child behind her and Clegane was only one man. They were great, but nobody could take one so many knights. They'd be overpowered half-way through. She hoped Uncle Jamie would come to her; tell her what to do. Instead, she only heard Clegane.

"I take this side, you take the other?" He suggested as the men closed in.

She thought quickly. "No. Get back. I have an idea."

Sienna dug into her pocket and grabbed the red stone. The stone given to her by Melisandre burned in her palm like a fiery coal. The stone had the same grainy, fragile feel of charcoal, though colored red like the sorceress's robes. She barely held it in her hand. Unsure what to do, Sienna threw the stone hard onto the ground between her and knights. The stone shattered into several pieces easily, sitting in the center a dull moment. She watched as they progressively released a big cloud of thick smoke into the air. The men coughed and gasped as the smoke seeped into their helms; it barricaded her from their reach. She smiled at the small smoke shield before realizing its true nature.

The coal pieces popped like kernels in a pot. They cracked, and their edges flamed like dying embers. In a matter of moments, the fire spread throughout the courtyard. It seemed untamable. She watched the scorching orange and red flames engulf the stables, the barracks, and anybody who came in contact with it. She saw Ser Balon turn into a human torch as a piece hopped onto his white cloak and set it ablaze. His screams weaved in with the cracking of wood and cries of others.

Then she saw him. She recognized him right away. His blond hair glimmered like gold in the fire, and his armor shined bright and new. She saw no blood, no scratches, and nothing indicating his sword had kissed a man's flesh yet. What a coward. He was running back to mother like he always did. He did not bother to defend his own city. He wasn't even arguing with them. He allowed Lancel to lead him like a child. No wonder his men deserted him. No man would follow a craven. He was a boy. He did not know war. He did not know battle. This was his chance to prove he at least cared about his city and he ran like a girl. Though, that was Joffrey, wasn't it? Care about things only if they suit you? Love things only if they submit to you? He didn't care about the city. He didn't care about his people. He'll let them all burn if that meant he could escape.

Joffrey would let his men be slaughtered, their women be raped, their children be killed, and their gold be stolen from them by Stannis if that meant he was safe in Mummy's arms. She hated him. She hated everything about him and his stupid whore of a mother.

"CRAVEN!" She shouted at him. "YOU BLOODY CRAVEN!"

Joffrey knew her voice. He heard her call him that hundreds of times: when he found a spider in his chambers, when his nightmares kept him from sleeping, and when he chose wood over steel in the training yard. His head whipped around. Green met blue in a sea of red. He saw his dog with her, huffing and sweaty from battle. Sansa...Sansa stood behind her scared stiff. Why? Why was she like that? Why her? Why couldn't it have been somebody else? He wouldn't have minded another man, honestly. But why Sienna? Everyone always loved Sienna more than him and it wasn't fair. He was King! She should honor, love and obey him! Not his stupid sister!

"Take Sansa through the passage way in my cell," Sienna told Clegane. "Just push on the corner, follow the path, and it shall lead you there. A woman will be waiting for her."

"No, Sienna!" Sansa cried. "Come with us! Just leave him! Don't do this! Come with us! Come with me!"

"Sansa, tell my uncle not to worry about me," She told her quickly. "I will find a way to Dragonstone on my own. There are plenty of pirate ships or traders who can drop me there if I give them the right amount."

"No," Sansa shook her head, "No, no, no. This isn't what you were meant to do! You weren't meant to die here in this awful place! Come with me!"

"She's right, my lady," Clegane said. "Come with us, and fight him another day."

"If I don't take my chance now Clegane-"

He came close to her. She could smell blood and wine on him. She saw the sweat run down his hideous scar, and the darkness in his good eye. "You can't rule the kingdom if you're dead. You won't even get close to him with...with...with all this fucking fire! Come with us and fight the bastard another day."

Without another protest, Clegane wrapped an arm around her, lifted her over his shoulder and they began running again. She looked up as much as she could. Joffrey still stood in place across the barricade. Heat kissed their cheeks; sweat trickled down their bodies under their clothes; their armor and weapons weighed down on their sore muscles. She stared into his eyes. No closeness was needed to know they flashed an emerald green like his mother's. They boiled rage, anger and…fear. She saw the fear shoot back into him when a rafter holding the stable rooftop collapsed near him. He jumped yards away from it like a cat with water. Lancel grabbed his wrist and pulled him along. That was when Sienna really saw the fear. He stared back at her through the flames. His chest heaved up and down; his eyes glanced all around them and he almost stumbled into the holdfast. His body shook, his mind scrambled all over the place. She felt sorry for him.

'_Seven Hells,'_ She said, _'He is only a boy. He doesn't know what he got himself into. Father, do not judge him harshly. Mother, show him mercy and love. Warrior, give him strength. Smith, help him recreate the country in a better image. Crone, give him the wisdom all kings need to rule their lands. Maiden, let him find a woman who will calm his vicious heart and who gives him strong, healthy children…Stranger…Take him when he is an old man who lived well. Forgive me, brother, for every wrong I ever did towards you. I should not have taken your bride from you. I should not have stolen your glory. I should have guided you; helped you see that your way is wrong instead of simply smacking you. I could have guided you. Instead, I thought about making myself look better and stronger than you in our father's eyes. I should have told you it didn't matter what that fat drunk thought of you, you could have been great. You would not be so angry if it were not for me. I am sorry.'_

"I'm sorry," She said though nobody heard the words.

The world casted into shadows when Clegane made it into the White Sword Tower. The candles in the tower melted into their stubs, so the rooms stood in faint darkness. The wooden door muffled the noise outside, but wouldn't keep the fire out forever. She noticed things missing from the armory and barracks, as well as the council chamber torn apart. She assumed somebody ransacked the place already, leaving only the least valuable items behind. Deserters had no shame or honor. Clegane set her down on the floor. Clegane saw she would make a move. He had been right. She couldn't kill Joffrey no matter how badly she dreamed of it.

"Lead the way," Clegane said.

Sansa led them, surprisingly. She took Sienna's hand and led them all the way up to Traitor's Walk. When Clegane nodded the walkway was clear of fighters, they hurried to the dungeon door left slightly ajar. The battle sounded louder than before now that she stood on the battlements. She saw the burning ships, the blazing wildfire, and the men fighting to protect their city. She wanted to join them. She wanted to go down there striking down any fool wearing Lannister red. Something pulled her from the edge of the walkway.

"Little Queen can fight with the big boys another day," Clegane grunted. "Come on."

Sienna led them down the first two floors. Somebody must have pened the dungeons cells because no prisoners occupied them. Perhaps they did this as an act of desperation to distract the Baratheon men; hoping the prisoners would join in their fight rather than flee. Maybe last minute recruitment. She didn't know. All she knew was Melisandre waited for her on that boat with a black sail. She bounded down the winding staircase to the third floor; the only lit being the soft glow of the torch lamps on the walls. She brought them both into her cell. Clegane removed a torch from the wall and poured light into the dark, damp cell. She quickly whipped her head around the place for the corner before finally laying her eyes on it. With all her strength, Sienna pushed the secret door open.

"Is this is?" Sansa asked, staring down into the long passage way.

"Yes," Sienna replied. She turned to Clegane, "You can come with us, Clegane. You won't be hunted if you're by my side."

"I have no interest in this war anymore," He handed her the torch. "I brought you to the passage, now go before I change my mind and take you both right to the Queen."

Sienna caught the empty threat. She only grinned at him. "Thank you, Clegane. Until we meet again."

"Until we meet again...Your Grace..."

They shook hands. Sienna remembered a lot of things about Clegane: The first time she saw him at and Casterly Rock standing near Lord Tywin like a guard dog, how his strength awed and scared her. He once caught her falling from a peach tree in the gardens. During a hunt, he sat outside her tent to protect her from the wolves and bears she believed roaming the forest. Clegane could have easily killed her in the tourney. He had several opportunities in the course of the months or in the hours that have passed. Instead, he fought for her. He defended her.

He bowed to them both, and then walked out of the cell. Sienna watched the doorway as if he would return. Would she see him again? In this world of madness, people dropped easier than spilled wine. They died from more than swords in their backs. They died from famine and plagues. Neighbor turned on neighbor in this war of kings. Sandor is a famous swordsman and a Clegane. They will want a crack at his head. He could be killed tomorrow, next week, next month or in a year. She hoped not.

She took Sansa's hand. Freedom smelled of sea salt, sand, and the crisp winds flowing in through the stone passages. She led her love through the labyrinth of tunnels made by Maegor Targaryen hundreds of years.

"Sienna," Sansa whispered in the dark, "Do you really trust these people? The ones coming to get us?"

"I might. I'm not sure. They say they are on my uncle's side, but I can't be sure about that. Lord Varys WAS the one who directed me to them, so who knows how trustworthy they actually are," Sienna replied. "All I know is they are our only way out of this place."

"They will take me too? Even if they know about….about us?"

"Yes. I told them I wouldn't go without you. Once we get to Dragonstone, we'll be safe. My uncle will never hurt me or you," She assured her.

Sansa tugged her hand. She stopped her in the middle of the passage, the darkness around them and the dampness already seeping into their dresses. Sienna cut up hers from the knee down, but Sansa still dressed properly. Her bag hardly fit through some of the narrower halls. Her hands could not handle anything but the dagger she held. Sienna saw how scared the uncertainty made her. She wanted to detail everything for her. She knew they should sit down and talk about everything. Sienna was wrong for pulling Sansa away so suddenly.

"I know all of this is sudden, Sansa," Sienna told her, "But I-"

"-You're doing this for me," She could tell she was smiling even in the dimness. "I know…You wouldn't have risked going all that way if you thought I'd be safe in Winterfell. I don't know your uncle or Dragonstone, but you would not take me somewhere you thought was dangerous." Her fingers slipped into Sienna's, "You always keep me safe."

"Always." Sienna then whispered, "You are always safe. I will never let anyone harm you, ever. I will strike down any man who wishes to harm you and put their head on a spike for the world to see."

"Even Joffrey?"

She hesitated. Sienna remembered the scared boy in the courtyard. She thought of the boy who was in over his head when he went to war with the world; the boy who she thought was her brother. She couldn't kill her family. Joffrey…Joffrey had his list of crimes. Treason will be at the top of her list; the harms he's done to Sansa and others being second. His head on a spike would make Sansa happy, she knew. "I'll give you his head personally."

She planted a soft kiss on her love's lips. Sienna felt reassured now. She will be ruling the kingdom beside the most beautiful, wonderful, benevolent woman she'd ever known. She felt perfectly fine. Sienna stared on Sansa's face in the torchlight, lustrous even in the sweat and dirt from the ashes on her face. Every single memory of Sansa flooded into her mind in an instant. Every word, every declaration of love, every kiss, and every touch fell through her. Each time she saw Sansa smile or felt the world right in her arms.

"I love you, remember that," Sienna muttered.

"And remember that I love you," Sansa said, "You fool…"

They smiled. She took her safely through the rest of the passage where they found the caged door. Sienna hoped for the rugged face of Ser Davos, but instead saw a younger, handsome boy there. His hair the color of a raven's wing, his eyes glimmer the same blue as Ser Davos's, she figured he must be his son. She saw a bit of black scruff on his jaw, though not a full beard. He must have been her age or mayhap a bit older. She kept Sansa behind her as the stranger opened the door. Her sword came to a point on his chest.

"Who are you, ser?" She asked.

He raised his hands in surrender, "Allard Seaworth, Your Grace. I am Ser Davos's son. He asked me to come take you to Lord Stannis's ship nearby so you may go to Dragonstone."

"You have nothing to fear here, Your Grace."

The Lady Melisandre appeared at Allard's side. In her crimson silks and satins, she gave Sienna a serene gaze. "Allard is a friend of your uncle's," She told her, "Please, come. We do not have much time."

Sienna took Allard's hand out of the tunnel, whereas she helped Sansa out herself. She watched Sansa see the exotic priestess for the first time. Her eyes took in the woman's unusual appearance, unsure of how to react to either of the two in front of her.

"Lady Sansa," Melisandre bowed to her. "There is no need to fear me. I am Melisandre of Asshai, a priestess and servant of R'hllor, the Lord of Light. I serve Lord Stannis, and Queen Sienna, and in turn, you."

"It…It is nice to meet you, my lady," Sansa said as they were guided to the small black boat.

Allard led them to the boat. He spoke to Sienna, "My father spoke highly of you after you met, Your Grace."

"Where is your father?" Sienna let Sansa into the boat first before sitting beside her. She rested her sword in its sheath and the bow on her lap.

"Fighting with Lord Stannis."

"What is the status of the battle? Are we winning?" She helped him carefully row the boat out of the bay.

"We had them in the beginning, Your Grace, but then Lord Tywin's forces arrived with the Tyrells. They have taken over most of the battlefield."

"What was his army in total?"

"We had 200 ships with a landing party of 20,000 mounted knights, a light Calvary and some free riders," He answered. "You uncle lost most of our fleet in the wildfire, but you uncle recovered with the landing party. However, Lord Tywin entered halfway through. The battle has turned against us, Your Grace."

"A victory for the lion…" She said to herself.

She rowed with Allard until she saw them. The green flames died out as it grew hungry, but the smoke filled the air and the sounds of dying men floating in the ocean floated all around them. Wreckages of ships floated in the sea towards the shore; pieces of wood, masts, and sails sunk deep into the black waters. Sienna stood up as they approached a wrecked ship. She tried to see the bodies in the darkness. She turned over the corpses of pirates, sellswords and nobles. Any man she found alive, she brought him onto their boat despite Allard's warning that her uncle said he'd take only her and Sansa.

"These men are not dead. They can be healed to fight another day. Why should I leave them here to die in their agony?" She asked him. "Sansa help him row the boat."

Sansa stared wide-eyed at the burning Keep. Sienna turned as well. The flames must have been contained into a single area so they did not destroy the castle, but their bright orange color made the Red Keep even redder in the moonlight. Her home stood there miles away burning like logs in a fire while she rowed away safely. She thought of the people who burned to death or the men who would walk away with burn marks worse than The Hound's. She thought of the gardens she played in, the tower she visited, and the stables she kept Majesty in after long rides in the Kingswood. She thought of Tommen, her Uncle Tyrion and Uncle Jamie. She thought of Lord Varys with his little birds, and Lord Baelish with his mysterious spies. The home she knew became shattered when The Queen decided she no longer mattered. She stopped mattering when Sienna knew the truth: Her siblings are bastards, and her mother holds no real love for her at all. All because of who her father had been…

Who does love her then? Who does care? Who can she turn to when she cries or when she is ill? Who will hold her after a nightmare? She turned her head to the auburn haired girl shivering in her seat. She knelt down to her, moving her head away from the scene to see tears glazing her eyes. "Sansa, don't look at it. Keep your head down and row. Understand? Sansa! Look at me, Sansa. Just keep rowing until we reach the ship. It's not too far away. Please."

Sansa nodded, and lowered her head. However, her serenity shattered when an arrow lodged itself into the edge of the boat.

"No…" Sienna whipped around.

A few men spotted the boat in the dying wildfire. They shot arrows as if hoping to land one in her chest. Sienna ordered Allard to move faster, while she notched an arrow into her bow. Taking a deep breath, it whistled as it flew through the air towards the group of archers. Sienna tried picking them all off man by man like bottles on a ledge, but she managed three before the boat moved out of their sight in the smoke. She caught Allard admiring her.

"Your Grace," Melisdanre's voice broke her concentration. She noticed Sansa covered in the woman's thick red cloak, her slender arm across Sansa's back in a soothing gesture. "Your uncle will meet you in Dragonstone."

"Who is on Dragonstone now?" She asked. She came to the first man she pulled into the boat. He muttered something about going home, and Sienna assured he would. He had nothing more than burns on his chest and arms. He'd survive.

"Your aunt, Lady Selyse with her daughter, Shireen. Your father's bastard son, Edric Storm, also resides there."

"Bastard boy? I never knew my father acknowledged any of his bastards," Sienna said, taking a look at the man clutching the arrow inside leg as he cried in pain. Quickly, she yanked the arrow and covered the wound with a torn piece of her dress. She told him he would see a healer soon.

"Edric is a noble bastard, Your Grace," Allard comments. "He is the son of Delena of House Florent, your aunt's sister."

"I see…I wish my father acknowledged his other children. Perhaps then they would not be dead." Much like the teenage boy who finally succumbed to the burns and arrows in his body; she did not toss him over. Sienna would see to it the boy was given back to his family, if he had one.

She rowed with Allard the rest of the way. The forward motion of the oars, their soft whispers in the night as they broke the calm surface, kept her mind steady. Sienna inhaled deeply as she watched King's Landing become smaller and smaller. She accomplished her goal: Sansa was safe, she was safe, and they were on their way to Dragonstone. She watched as Sansa distracted herself with keeping the two injured men company. She spoke to them in low tones, telling them The Gods were with them and they'd be home soon.

Uncle Stannis was not on the boat. A man told her he led the landing party on the shores, and he will join them in Dragonstone. Sienna did not complain. She stood on the desk of the Lysene ship, having the two men tended to instantly. Luckily, the ship's healer said the wounds weren't fatal. Milk of the poppy, some herbs and bandages will heal them up in no time, he said. Sienna asked them to cover the third man for some dignity; store him where they store their dead until they reached Dragonstone. The Lysene captain obliged gratefully, calling Her Grace a true saint to the people.

Sienna was no saint. She just cared more than others.

They ate in the captain's chambers as well as given their own beds in a cabin (She did not want to put the captain out of his own already). Sienna hardly spoke, though Sansa's curiosity and conversation with the captain kept the room filled with talk. She thought of Dragonstone, her uncle, her aunt and cousin, and her future….the future that is written for her. She never thought she'd become a Queen. She always lived contently with being alone or being a lord's wife someday. Could she be a Queen? Could she really rule The Seven Kingdoms as they are made to be ruled? Rightly and justly? Under a caring, loving, but always firm hand?

Yes. She could do that.


	20. Epilogue: Aftermath

On Dragonstone, Sienna met with her Aunt Selyse, as well as her cousin, Shireen and a boy named Edric Storm. Coming close to ten-years-old, Shireen wasn't the prettiest of children but by far the sweetest. She had the Baratheon blue eyes and square jaw, but inherited her mother's large Florent ears. Smiling up at her, Sienna ignored the greyscale scar lined up the left side of the child's face. The flesh mottled black and grey in cracks felt stone to the touch and made her neck and cheek stiff. She told Sansa before they met her that Shireen caught greyscale as an infant, though managed to survive. Sansa, thankfully, said nothing nor made a notice of it.

Beside her was her fool, Pathface, whom she introduced as Patches. Large with tattoos of green and red squared on his face, he merely giggled at the sight of Sienna. He said: _'The stag has come to play, my lord. To play, my lord. To play, my lord. The stag has come to play, my lord, with the wolf in its bed!'_ Sienna laughed. Sansa blushed a bright red, and Shireen told him he shouldn't sing things like that. He sang it all the way to Dragonstone.

Edric Storm was introduced as her half-brother from Selyse's cousin. She did not need to be told, honestly, Baratheon was written all over him. They shared the same black hair, and blue eyes. The difference was her Lannister cheekbones and his Florent ears. He hugged her as tightly as Shireen did, already calling her 'sister'. He reminded her of Tommen, and it hurt.

Aunt Selyse, a tall thin woman with thick brown hair had the plainest face Sienna saw on a woman. The hairs above her lips more apparent than natural, Sienna used to joke she worried her uncle married a man instead of a woman. She greeted Sienna and Sansa firmly, her pale eyes glaring at the couple holding hands. Selyse could not be outright rude to Sienna, especially when she's to be Queen. Though, Sienna wouldn't doubt she'd love to scold her.

Stannis arrived an hour or so later without Ser Davos. Rumored to be dead, nobody saw sight of his sons Matthos or Dale. Sienna hoped the man wasn't truly dead. She liked him. She believed he'd be the only person she'd like around here. After his stiff greeting, her uncle informed her that most of their fleet burned in the battle. They lost 67 lesser lords, and at least 600 of their knights, men-at-arms and the ground army scattered or switched sides halfway through the battle. Out of the 19 lords sworn to House Baratheon and Dragonstone, only 15 remain as their lords defected to the opposing side. Stannis tells her he doesn't find this surprising, as the lords who switched were houses in league with House Tyrell, and joined their lords the second they saw them approaching. The Baratheon army itself is only 2,000 men strong, and very few ships left in their fleet. He credits Rolland Storm, called The Bastard of Nightsong, for helping them escape.

When they finally entered the large, black castle, they entered The Chamber of the Painted Table. The table itself is a whole map of the western world, the highest seat in the room raised where Dragonstone sits. Roughly fifty feet long, anyone in the room had views from the north, south, east and west through the long windows Aegon Targaryen installed when he placed the room about The Stone Drum, the main keep of the castle.

"There is something else we must speak of," Stannis said. Sienna saw the battle on his face, the blood staining his clothes and the sweat on his forehead. Why do men insist on talking right after they've shed so much blood? Sienna personally felt exhausted. She wanted the meeting to be over, so she can go lay in her bed with Sansa.

"Yes, Uncle?" She asked.

"Marriage and children."

She perked her head up, "Pardon?"

"In order for any of our allies to fully accept you, we need to kill these nasty rumors about you and the Stark girl," He said. "You'll have to marry somebody and have his children, so you can produce heirs to the throne."

"No."

Stannis gritted his teeth, "Sienna, you must do this. No man is going to follow-"

"-They're all still here!" Sienna gestured to the hundreds of tents planted on the beaches beyond the castle. "They haven't left nor made a motion for it! If they wanted to turn their backs on us, they would've done so at Blackwater."

"Marriage is a way to seal alliances if you well remember. You will have a stronger claim to the throne if you produce an heir."

"Yes, with someone else. Not Sansa."

"You're a woman last time I remembered! You can't give her children!"

"Somebody else can and we can take him as ours...or I can proclaim an heir. Perhaps Edric or Shireen."

Selyse stiffened at her child's name. "My daughter is not fit for a throne."

"Right now, but when she's older and I've taught her things-"

"-Shireen will never be your heir," Selyse interrupted. "Your uncle or half-brother will be."

Sienna stared at her. She hated the woman already. What woman did not want her daughter to be a queen? Clearly, every woman. "I will not marry anyone. All he'll do is try to take the throne from me, and I'll be pushed to the side. He'll make me sit with all the other sheep in this place while he goes into battle, fighting under MY family's banners and leading MY family's sworn houses."

"Which is how it should be," Selyse muttered, but Stannis gave her a cold look that silenced her.

Stannis turned to her, "We lost half our fleet. We lost many men. We lost the battle. If we want to reorganize, we're going to need friends and those friends will want to present their sons to you."

"No. No, no, no, no, NO!" She bellowed, thrashing a few figurines off the war map on the table. "I will not marry any of those men. Half of them are traitors and the other half are schemers. I will not."

"It is your duty as Queen!" Selyse snapped. "Those men will not follow you if they think you enjoy the company of women."

"They enjoy the company of women. Wouldn't that make me more relatable?"

"They're men! You're a woman! I always said your father's negligence would come back to haunt the rest of us! He never let your mother teach you anything! He let you have your way all the time! If you were my daughter-"

"-What? You'd lock me up in a cell and never look at me?!" Sienna remarked.

"Enough!" Stannis's voice sliced through them both. He stood up from the table, looking at his niece. He saw the rage in her eyes already. This was Robert in female skin. He knew she had half a mind to chuck his wife out the window, and perhaps he'll let her do it. "Sienna...If you do not marry anyone, then how do we make allies? We cannot make them with simple trades. Our defeat at Blackwater cost us more than just men, it made us look weak. Our enemies think we are weak. How can we show them we are not when we have no one behind us in battle or any loyalty amongst us?"

"Your Grace?" She came in as silently as a shadow. Her voice carried in the winds like a whisper. Sienna almost did not see her come in through the door until the sun shined on her.

"My lady," Selyse bowed to Melisandre at once, "It is a pleasure to see you are safe and home again."

She kissed Melisandre's hand. The red-haired woman grinned, "And it is good to see you. All has been well, yes?"

"Yes. I have prayed to the Lord of Light for your safe return for many days now."

"It is appreciated, my lady. As I have prayed for the coming of our Queen," Melisandre turned to Sienna.

She felt goose pimples come all over her skin. Melisandre's unnatural warmth spread on her like standing close to a blazing fire. She touched Sienna's hands, bearing her crimson eyes into the blue before her. "I know a way that may solve your troubles, my Queen."

"What way? You mean magic?"

"In Asshai, barren women used to visit the priests in the R'hllor's temple and ask the priests to perform what was called a 'birthing gift'."

"'Birthing gift'?"

"No," Stannis growled. "You will not have a child out of magic. I cannot accept it this time, my lady. She must marry-"

"-She will marry Sansa Stark under The Lord of Light." Melisandre turned to her, "Unlike your seven false gods, The Lord of Light does not discriminate between marriage or love. If you take Him as your lord and your savior, Your Grace, He will guide you with his flames. You are the chosen one. You will pull the sword from the heart of the Father, and banish those who stalk the terrible night. I have seen you every day in my flames, Your Grace. I know this is true."

"Am I happy in those flames?"

"Very."

"Why doesn't your God care about who loves who? Women cannot give women children naturally or men in the same fashion."

"Because when we go into the flames, we all come out the same."

The words sounded eerie to her ears. She thought of men being burned alive, women being roasted with their babies. This Lord of Light sounded so cruel, but so inviting. He offered a new life for her and Sansa. She couldn't believe what the priestess was telling her: A god that allowed men to lie with men and women to lie with women? Gave them children and loved them all the same? Simply because in the end they are all ashes? Sienna found this too good to be true.

"I will speak of this with Sansa," Sienna told her. "I do not want to...I've already pulled her into so much. I cannot make her change without asking first."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"We meet at the top of the mountain," Selyse said. For some reason, Sienna joining her faith melted her cold shoulders. "We have prayers there every night."

"You are always free to join us, Your Grace."

"She cannot marry Sansa!" Stannis said. "Sansa has nothing to-"

"-When her brother dies," Sienna cut in, though not actually staring at him, "Sansa will be the only key to The North. Many northern men respect her father, and only stay because Robb is his son. If I marry Sansa, if Sansa retakes Winterfell from the Boltons, the faithful ones will come to us."

Sienna ended the meeting there. The lords must tend to their wounded and deceased; they all needed rest. And she needed to think. Dragonstone was a rocky fortress, carved out in dragons and large halls. Sansa was mesmerized by everything, but Sienna only thought. She needed to think of their next move. All this talk of The Lord of Light, Birthing Gifts, and flames made her head spin. She nearly lost her way to her bed chambers once or twice before Sansa dragged her into their chamber.

She told Sansa everything she heard. She explained that the decision was not urgent. In fact, they did not have to do it at all if she wished. In the end, Sienna slipped into the bed with Sansa in her arms.

"At least we're together, and we're safe again," Sansa told her in their bedchamber.

She held onto her. She wanted to drown in the scent of Sansa's hair. The stag finally had her dove in her arms. In that moment, that's all that mattered.

* * *

King's Landing suffered as well. With 1600 gold cloaks either dead or deserted, and the royal fleet destroyed, the King will need his alliance with the Tyrells to help their cause. The Tyrells, Wardens of the South and Lords of Highgarden, are gracious with their food supply, which they give to their Lannister allies...for a price. Joffrey Baratheon will wed Mace Tyrell's only daughter, Maragaery, to seal their alliance.

Nobody complained about her. Nobody stood there and judged the very sight of her. Everybody loved Maragery Tyrell, with her brown curls and large brown eyes. She'd make the perfect queen: Young, beautiful, and the whole world bowing at her feet. Maragery Tyrell won the people with food and love. She won their love with her pretty smile, generosity, and care. She never killed a man for her city or shoved a lance into his chest for honor. She hadn't stuck a dagger into a man's neck when he tried to rape her. She hadn't charged bravely onto a jousting field, injured and delirious, fighting off The Hound. She'd never know battle or combat. She probably never even broken a single bone on that shapely body of her before.

Sienna did. Cersei remembered that Sienna did all of that. Sienna earned the love of the people with her strength and understanding. She knew their pain, so she said. Her strength awed them all. Cersei remembered hearing how many people she protected during the riot. She recalled seeing her walking off with a small child into a bake shop. Cersei hated thinking of that day: the shouts, the angry hands, and Sienna. Her Sienna, running away to find Sansa. She saw her fight and kill. Cersei called out for her hundreds of times. She shouted her name into the air, hoping the girl would hear her name above the roar of the crowd. She never did. Cersei lost her child that day, and the one that came back was horrible and evil.

Maragery was merely a pretty rose that smelled sweet.

"The people are conflicted!" Mace Tyrell would exclaim over wine in her father's chambers. After the battle, Joffrey proclaimed Tywin Lannister Hand of the King, his old position. The title suited her father well, he was politically savvy and stern as always. Bald-headed with golden side whiskers, he sat on his chair stiffly and up right. He hardly touched the wine in front of him. All he did was look at the two men on the opposite side of the table: Mace Tyrell and his son, Ser Loras.

"They either love my daughter or your granddaughter!" Lord Mace exclaimed, his beard covering the several chins he had and his belt doing nothing to restrain his protruding gut. "I hear there's people who toast to Queen Sienna, Defender of the People and Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms! What do you say to that, Your Grace?"

_'I say they should. Your daughter is a flower, easily stomped on by the hooves of the stag.' _"I'm sure once they see Sienna is nothing but a disgusting, ill-minded traitor, they will leave her," Cersei tried explaining. "The common people are easily swayed these days with distractions and food. Sienna has nothing to offer them on that little rock of hers."

"She offers them leadership," Her father said. "She offers them peace, prosperity and love. Nothing your son can ever hope to give them with this war he started. We should be thankful that Lord Tyrell has so graciously offered us food stores for the winter and the rations they have been giving to the people. With our luck, soon Sienna will be forgotten."

_'Not by me,'_ Cersei thought. She hated walking by her bedchamber or standing near the training yard. She hated hearing the sounds of clashing swords and hearty laughter. The girl haunted her as if she died in some horrible accident. She thought of her often, usually fond memories. Though, she always went back to the one where she held a sickly Sienna in her arms.

The maester said she drank the moon tea too late, which was why her pregnancy had so many complications. The constant spotting and painful cramps gave Cersei hope that she'd never have HIS child. She only ever wanted Jamie's. She begged Jamie to lay with her when Robert went out hunting, so perhaps his seed will somehow slay the little monster living inside her and she'll have that one instead. She spent the last few months on her birthing bed since Maester Pycelle said the baby was very fragile inside her. She prayed the child came out died. She prayed she'd never see it live.

Sienna Baratheon was born on a windy summer morning. An adorable baby with black hair, whose blue eyes stared at her mother through slits. She was born sick. The child had a fever, Maester Pycelle told her, and she might not survive it. Cersei remembered standing over her cradle, tears pouring down her face as she thought of the pain she put an innocent child through. She prayed every night she'd survive. She told The Gods she'd love the child immensely, more than any other. She was so beautiful and small. She smiled at Cersei, even in all her pain. It seems even as an infant she strived to make Cersei happy.

As Sienna grew older, Cersei couldn't stand the sight of her. She was Robert. She wasn't Cersei or Jamie. Sienna became the stain on Cersei's road to happiness. Then they started saying she should be Queen.

_'...Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful to take everything you hold dear.'_ The old witch's words haunted her to this day, more than ever before. Especially now that she has both Sienna and Margaery to compete.

They would not take this away from her.

"Some people say they saw her pulling dead men from the sea into her boat," Ser Loras Tyrell said. "One of the men returned to his family, telling them how Sienna saved his life in the Blackwater."

Mace's son, the most handsome boy in all the Seven Kingdoms, sat near his father. The Knight of Flowers was an excellent swordsman and jouster. He could unhorse anyone, they said. Cersei didn't like looking at him too long. Soft brown curls, his twinkling brown eyes and handsome face reminded her of Margaery. They were almost like twins. She watched him sitting here in his clean, shiny clothes, his hair perfectly combed and lips grinning.

_'You could've married Sienna. Yes, you're handsome enough. Strong enough. Sienna would've liked fighting with you, though probably japed that she was manlier,'_ Cersei thought. _'I would have liked to see her make a real man out of you. Not only in the marriage bed but on the field. She deserves that.'_

If she hadn't needed cooperation with Roose Bolton, of course. When her father told her Lord Bolton finally decided on Sienna, she laughed. Of course he'd want the princess; Fat Walla Frey had no chance against the slender, beautiful princess. Cersei liked to think Bolton could have shaped Sienna, but then, she'd rather not. Not with the rumors circulating about that bastard of his, the one who tortures his enemies for fun.

"Sienna has always...always been considerate of others. She hates to see suffering," Lord Tywin said, "The people carried a certain fondness for her, my lord. A lot of people in this keep do, surprisingly. But I assure you, this will all pass. Your daughter is a lovely woman, my lord. The people already worship her as if she were their Queen."

They did the same with Sienna. Throw a couple of grains in their faces and the people adore you. She heard of what happened in the Street of Flour that day; the heroism of her daughter, and her bold words repeated throughout the city. She wasn't like Margaery, trying to win their love because she wanted to rule them. Sienna gave them that bread because she saw their despair. She heard their cries for help. Maragery wanted to be the Queen. Sienna wanted to be...something else.

"Well, let us hope so," Lord Tyrell said. "If this gets any worse, we'll have to find someone to get rid of that pest."

Cersei wanted to kill him. "An assassination, my lord? Is that what you are suggesting?" She asked him curiously.

"My father means nothing like that, Your Grace," Ser Loras quickly answered. "He merely means when our armies come to battle again, Sienna will-"

"-Oh Sienna will not be on the battlefield!" Lord Mace said in a chortle. "Stannis will never allow it. She is only a young girl after all, no older than my Margaery. She is his key to getting the throne, and he can't get it if she falls in battle. We will never see her actually fighting. Stannis has probably already locked her away somewhere in that dreadful keep of his."

"My daughter _is_ a traitor," Cersei admitted, "But she is a warrior and of noble blood. She will die honorably. Not like some peasant in the gutters of Flea Bottom."

Cersei wished she could show them. Sienna would never consent to sit in a castle while the men went to battle. She'd be a real leader, unlike Lord Mace who's only real military accomplishment was eating in the captain's tent while Stannis Baratheon starved in Storm's End. He had done no real fighting; everybody knows the Battle at Summerhall was a Tarly victory in truth, not a Tyrell victory.

"Your Grace, if we send someone to take Sienna out of the-"

"-Clearly, Lord Tyrell, you do not know my granddaughter," Lord Tywin finally said. "She is not a lion who is content with the company of sheep. She likes fighting. She loves combat. If Stannis had a proper army, I imagine she'll want to lead the first attack or even the van guard. She'll want to fight until there is nobody left to fight. She'll be the first to charge into battle and the last to leave the field alive."

"My lord," Ser Loras said. "I'm sure Lady Sienna is a capable warrior, but she is only a woman. She can't possibly have the same strength as a man."

_'Oh you fool. My father might not like her hobbies, but he loved her...more than me, I believe sometimes.'_ Sienna brings contribution to his so called 'legacy'. His granddaughter a fierce fighter on the field and a perfect lady in court.

"Which is why she trains harder and longer than anyone here," He told them. "She trained dawn, noon, and dusk with my son in the yard with wood and steel. She's been doing this since she was one-and-ten, my lords. As for her being like your Margaery, let us not flatter ourselves too much. Do not misunderstand me, my lords. Margaery is as intelligent as she is beautiful; she is truly a woman to be envied. However, our Sienna has her talents too. She was able to escape an entire castle of armed guards, kill men in her attempt, and even shoot at them when they tried to stop her without dying or being mortally wounded. I do not agree with her burning half The Keep down, but it made a good escape tactic when our men had her cornered," He pinned them to their seats with his eyes. "Sienna is a warrior. She is strong, powerful and too much like her father. Even if you did send some low-born, common sellsword after her, she'd cut him down in an instant. If you poisoned her, I imagined she'd know it was before she tasted it.

"We all forget. She knows things we don't know. She's a seasoned traveler. She's seen things she won't even talk about to me. So, my answer is no, Lord Mace. If Sienna is to die, she will die properly."

_'If she dies at all. I can imagine she'll kill whoever tries to lay a hand on her.'_

However, Cersei couldn't help notice the stare. This wasn't the end of the discussion.

**THE END**


End file.
